


Inter-House Unity: The Owlpals

by lexiatel



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, No Romance, Platonic Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 28,439
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23746129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lexiatel/pseuds/lexiatel
Summary: In Year Five, the professors of Hogwarts introduce Inter-House Unity programs. This story is about an elected program that gives each participant an 'owlpal' whose identity must remain unknown. This is set COMPLETELY in an AU where Voldemort is non-existent.Somewhat of a Dramione.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	1. One

**Author's Note:**

> I started this years ago and decided that it needed to be finished, so I have been working for nearly two weeks on it! It won't be updated all at once, but there are seven chapters, the last being the longest (at around 6k words!).
> 
> Hope you enjoy. I might end up making this into a series. Dunno yet.
> 
> I want to thank my friend xxDustNight88 for helping me with betaing this story.

Hermione was heavily absorbed in a book about Candle Magic. The subject had been merely mentioned in a Charms book and snagged her interest immediately. The tiny amount of information provided in that book mildly frustrated her though, but after a quick search in the library, she'd come across a thick book about several different types of magic used with candles.

As she delved deeper into the subject, her fascination of it grew even more. Maybe this was because a candle was an object used in both the Muggle and Magical world, and it was amazing that a common thing that she'd used before Hogwarts was also used here, and for far more reasons than the Muggles did.

In the Muggle world, the only times she or her parents had ever used a candle was for adding a lovely fragrance to the room, or when the electricity went out and they needed light.

Most Muggles didn't believe that candles had magical properties (they didn't believe in magic period); though some 'strange' ones actually did, making Hermione wonder if perhaps there was more to those few individuals than what she'd been led to understand. Were they (or had they been) a part of the magical world? Were these people wizards or witches, having moved into the Muggle world for whatever reason or another? Or were they Squibs, forced to live with the Muggles after being disowned by their simple-minded families? Could they be Halfbloods? Or perhaps they were even Muggles themselves with knowledge of the magic, after marrying into a magical family (or having a magical child of their own, who would come back from their schooling, happily explaining whatever he or she learned while they were gone)?

Whatever it was, most Muggles thought those who used candles besides for decor, fragrance, and practical use were strange, or just flat out crazy.

Hermione thought the same until now; now that she was nose deep in the book, reading about rituals, wards, and other types of Candle Magic used in an abundance of ways. Those 'strange' Muggles made sense to her now— some may actually know of magic— _real_ magic.

From the moment she found out that she was a witch, Hermione made comparisons between Muggles and Wizards (at first, only having her textbooks to help her with this, but later, she'd been able to compare the two worlds with actual humans), and obviously, things were quite different between them. For example, for wizards, just about every possible thing they used held magical properties. 'Artificial' movement was linked to magic energy somehow or another, which was harnessed from the magic of an actual person. Unlike Muggles, who had to physically create their energy power from several kinds of methods, since manpower alone was not enough to keep up with supply and demands.

Wizards often said that they were superior to Muggles, but given that their energy couldn't be brought out from a power connected to their souls, Muggles did exceptionally well at improvising. Hermione had seen for herself that the majority of wizards were very helpless without the ability to use their magic. Once they started Hogwarts, society pretty much encouraged them to do everything magically. Which was why a wizard without his wand tended to be useless unless he had mastered wandless magic, which was extremely hard to do. Even then, there was the fact that most didn't see the need to study it. They never took such precautions— what if their wand broke, like what happened to Ron in the Second Year? Ron had never shown any special magical talent, to begin with, so having a faulty wand was not something he could afford to have.

But would anyone ever listen to Hermione when she stressed such concerns? No, of course not! Quidditch and gossiping about the latest nail varnish were _much_ more important!

"Candles, Hermione?" Ron's voice weaselled its way into her mind. "What could be interesting about candles?"

Hermione took this moment of interruption to spoon something in her mouth, not really paying attention to what it was, just so she'd fill her gut with something nutritious before the main meal disappeared to bring on dessert.

"Everything," she answered Ron, putting a finger into the book, marking it. "I'm reading about this one that David Henderson created; it's supposed to ward off nocturnal pests." Ron gave her a funny look, making her roll her eyes. "Night creatures, such as raccoons, mice and insects. It's rumoured to even ward off werewolves, vampires and ghouls, but there's no legitimate proof of it— though, anyone who's religiously lit one has had no encounters with the creatures, so that could be proof enough; the way I see it."

"You've barely touched your dinner," Harry informed her.

She smiled, slightly embarrassed. "Yes, I've gotten myself engrossed in the book."

"Nothing new there," Ron muttered to Harry.

Hermione ignored him and marked her book with a bookmark before stuffing it into her bag so it wouldn't further distract her from finishing her meal.

Just as she took her last bite, the tables were cleared briefly before dessert was served. Hermione chose a piece of carrot cake, plucking out the raisins and scraping them onto Ron's plate. Ron always asked for her raisins since she didn't particularly care for them. She didn't mind that he had them, as she didn't want the house elves to feel insulted for not finishing everything she had dished her plate with.

The boys began talking about the first Quidditch game of the year, even though it was still a few weeks away. With a spot open now that Oliver Woods graduated, Ron wanted to try out for the position. Harry didn't say anything at first about this. He was the captain of Gryffindor's team; the one who would have to make the final decision on the new players. Hermione didn't envy him a bit. She'd seen Ron play a few times: he was awful. Maybe he'd play differently on the team though when it wasn't just a game of 'points don't matter'. He _was_ competitive, after all.

Dessert was finished, but the Headmistress had yet to excuse them from the meal, as was the official standard of the school before they went up for bed, extra studying or, in some cases, detention. Last year, when Professor Dumbledore retired due to health concerns not specified, Professor McGonagall accepted the offered position as the Head of the school but kept her position as Head of the Gryffindor house too.

Hermione squirmed in her seat, watching Professor McGonagall speaking with her head down low to the other Head of Houses. She was going to make an announcement, Hermione could just feel it in her bones. A rather big one too. Was it something grand, like the Yule Ball had been? Or… or was something terrible…!? Suddenly, Hermione didn't feel so great. She crossed her fingers, praying that the news would be good.

_Please be good! Please be something fabulous!_

Oh! Maybe they were going to get some new books! Hogwarts was severely outdated in literature.

Finally, Professor McGonagall stood up and walked around to the front of the table and faced the student body. She called for their attention, and hundreds of pairs of eyes looked up toward the front, curious of what she had to say.

_Please be books! Please be books!_ Hermione thought over and over.

The shelves were seriously lacking Arithmancy books. Additional ones would be nice. Hermione still hadn't learned how to exactly _tell_ the future with it. She had been in search of a book that would since the day that Professor Vector mentioned Arithmancy was one of several ways to 'tell' the future of one's self.

Of course, when Hermione had raised her hand to ask the question, "How can we do that, Professor?", her 'answer' had been, "All in time, my dear, anxious girl; first I must teach you how to be able to read the numbers that were given to you."

That was three years ago. But, alas, Hermione still had this year and the next to learn it, so perhaps that would be covered in the last bit of the final year.

"As you know, this year we're going to be focusing on house unity, promoting you to interact with peers from other houses besides your own. Our first program is for those who like mystery, writing and conversation. I ask that you only sign up if you are serious about it, but all those who do make it to the end of the program will be awarded 100 points each to their houses—" A unison of gasping flooded throughout the room at this.

"Golly! A hundred points! _Each_?!" a girl seated nearby Hermione squealed.

The room quieted again when Professor McGonagall called for order.

"Failure to follow through will lose your house 100 points though, so apply some thorough thought to the program before you commit to it."

This tidbit only appeared to dishearten a few students. Hermione didn't understand why, since the program hadn't been explained yet. She twiddled her thumbs in excitement. If it didn't have anything to do with flying, she was definitely going to sign up.

"We're going to have what is called 'Owlpals' this year. For those of you who are not familiar with the term, I hear it's very similar to the Muggle term 'penpals'. Those who have filled out the sign-up sheet will be assigned a someone that you will write letters to for the next several weeks. Because of the house unity effort, we're applying this year, your owlpal will be someone who is from a different house besides your own. For example, if you're a Gryffindor, your owlpal will be either a Hufflepuff, a Ravenclaw, or a Slytherin. Your owlpal will not be sorted in the same house as you.

"For the mystery side of it, to add a little excitement and fun— while also not allowing any sort of judgement—" She momentarily glanced at the Slytherin table then shifted her eyes to her own table of Gryffindors.

Hermione understood clearly. There was quite a bit of conflict and plenty of hostility between the two houses, though Hermione had met a couple of Slytherin girls in some of her classes who were actually okay and didn't have the typical 'I'm better than you' attitude— for the most part, these girls kept to themselves.

"—you will not be allowed to know who your owlpal is until the program is over when we will have the Union Party. We hope by the time the Union Party comes around, you will have mingled quite nicely with one another.

"To ensure anonymity is kept, you will be given a specific book of blank parchment to write to your owlpal with, when you are finished with your letter, you will rip the pages out, roll them up and tie them together and then put the letter into a designated box that will be located in your common room.

"Deliveries will be made twice a day: in the morning and evening. For further explanation, which includes a complete list of rules, there is a packet you will find in your common rooms. You will also find the needed sign-up sheet in that same packet.

"Any questions not covered by the list of rules may be directed to your Head of House. We all hope you will partake in this event, thank you for your time. You may now disperse."

As soon as she turned from them, people started buzzing with chatter, excited over the news.

"I'm not sure I want to sign up, but 100 points is a lot," Ron said.

"I'm signing up," Harry told him.

"Before _anyone_ signs up, they should read the rules _entirely_ ," Hermione advised her surrounding housemates who had also chimed in about wanting to sign up. They just saw the _prize_ , nothing more. "Because if it gets too demanding to the point where you'll want to drop out, it'll be 100 points you'll _lose_ us." Here, she looked directly at Ron.

Ron gave her an indignant look. "Why are you looking at _me_? You're the one that's dropped classes you didn't like!"

Hermione huffed and began grabbing up her things. She'd originally planned to go up to the library and search for a few more books to read for the weekend, but the owlpal program had her intrigued. She wanted to claim a packet right away.

To Ron, she sneered, " _I_ could afford to drop _one_ class!"

As she walked away, with her nose held up high, she heard Harry say, "She brings up a good point."

She smiled at Ron's muttering, "Oh, shut up!"

*/*

When Draco returned to the common room, it was full of his housemates talking about the owlpal program. At first, he'd been disinterested in it (most Slytherins didn't spend their time socializing with those outside their sorting), but as with every other student in Hogwarts, that 100 points per successful participant had caught his attention. If even twenty of his housemates succeeded that would bring the Slytherin house 2,000 points toward the House Cup.

And, unlike the other houses, when Slytherins committed to something, they stuck through until the very end, especially if it was going to be worth so many house points.

Draco wasn't worried about many Slytherins dropping out. He just needed to get as many as he could to sign up. One good thing about the Slytherin house was that they wanted to _win_. If they didn't win, the Gryffindor house would, and _no_ Slytherin wanted _that_.

He pushed his way through the crowd to get himself one of those packets that the Headmistress had mentioned. Before he started promoting the program for potential sign-ups, he needed to know everything about it: who would be allowed to participate, what needed to be done to become a participant, and most importantly, how often did one have to write to their owlpal.

He took the packet (a large, Slytherin-green cardboard envelope) to his dorm, not wanting to read around all the excitement going on.

Blaise and Gregory were already there; Gregory was playing with a deck of cards while slurping on a lolly, and Blaise had his own owlpal packet, reading over one of the many pieces of parchment.

"It sounds like a big waste of time," Gregory said, before sucking hard on his sweet and popping it loudly out of his fat mouth.

"If you're going to be exceedingly revolting tonight, Goyle, _leave_!" Draco snarled as he crossed the room to his bed where he set the packet onto it. He then removed his tie, satisfied that Gregory had taken the hint to enjoy his sweet a lot quieter.

Gregory didn't usually intend to cause annoyance, unfortunately for those around him, he was just too bloody good at it. It was practically his only talent, besides ballroom dancing, that is. If he wasn't so fat, he could woo the ladies with his graceful steps alone. Alas, Draco's friend of six years couldn't manage five minutes without stuffing something into his mouth.

And Vincent Crabbe was the same way; only Vincent was turning out to be an incredible cook. That was a talent Draco never expected of him. Of course, Draco had, at first, disapproved of it (what Pureblood actually _cooked_?), but all Draco had to do was take one bite of Vincent's steak and kidney pie, and he was hooked.

Vincent could cook as much as he pleased, so long as Draco was invited to taste test it.

"It seems simple enough," Blaise commented as Draco got into bed, comfortably lying down, and began opening his envelope. "There are charms cast onto the book that the blank parchments are a part of, so as you write, it'll erase anything you put down that may reveal your true identity."

"The sign-up sheet is more detailed than I thought it would be," Draco noted out loud, after skimming through it. There was a section for the normal things needed when you signed up for something, such as your name, date of birth, and house sorting, but the second half intrigued him slightly. There was a list of things in which he had to mark certain things down as his favourite.

"Yes, seems redundant to ask for our favourite things, doesn't it?" Blaise commented.

"Maybe they'll use your favourite things and match you to someone who also likes those things," Gregory said semi-distractingly, busy with his one-player card game.

Blaise and Draco exchanged looks, thinking over Gregory's theory. Draco shrugged. Every once in a while, Gregory managed to say something intelligent.

According to the rules, any Hogwarts student could sign up; it was not limited to age or status. So even he, as a Prefect, could partake.

Anyone found cheating (by trying to find out who their owlpal was in any way) would lose the 100 points, plus an additional deduction that the Heads of House deemed fit.

Then, of course, there was the penalty for not following through until the very end, which was only one letter of exchange for every week. Draco found that manageable: it also specified that each letter had to be at least a page long.

Upon signing up, along with the completed sign up sheet, anyone who wanted to be a part of the program had to supply three strands of their hair— or nail clippings if one didn't have any hair. It was stressed in bold to make sure it was your own hair and not from someone else "Otherwise, your letters from your owlpal would not make it to you." They would be delivered to whomever the hair did belong to.

Besides all that, there was a list of questions and answers that any bloke with common sense would know.

It didn't seem hard at all. The hardest part of this all would be to get the Slytherins to even sign up in the first place. The 100 points had caught their attention, but after one thought it over, would they be willing to converse with a 'stranger' from another house for eight weeks? Only a select few found anyone outside of Slytherin worth their time.

Then again, several hundred points— a few thousand altogether— was _definitely_ worth their time.

"You signing up?" Blaise asked when Draco leaned over to open the drawer of his nightstand to get out a quill.

"I am. If everyone in Slytherin did, do you know how many points we would receive?"

"Millions?" Vincent asked dumbly. He had come in during Draco's reading and joined Gregory for a game.

Blaise rolled his eyes while Draco scoffed. "No, just a bit over 15,000."

Gregory lowered his hand of cards in awe. Vincent took this moment to peek at his cards, discarding one quickly before piping up with, "Your turn, Greg."

"That's right," Draco said, filling out the generic form. "And you two are going to do this too."

Vincent whined like a child. "Oh, Draco, I really don't want to!"

"Me neither!"

"Just think, you might meet a girl who loves chocolate cake and peppermint burps just as much as you do," Blaise said without looking up from his own paper, of which he was filling out.

Vincent looked longingly at the wall. "It _would_ be nice to talk with a lady…"

"But what if you get a boy?" Gregory asked horrified.

"Then you'll still end up meeting a bloke who may just like dancing as much as you do. You said so yourself: they are probably using this favourite list to match us with someone who we have commonalities with."

Gregory nodded slowly, not yet convinced, but he was on the fence about it.

"I'll give you each five Galleons if you sign up and make it all the way until the party," Draco offered.

The two oversized boys nodded eagerly. "Okay!" they chimed in unison and hurried out of the dorm room to go get a packet.

That was one grand thing about having excessive wealth: it was very effective for bribery.

Draco could probably get the first years to do it with a few Sickles, and increasing the amount with his housemates of each year above that. Yes, he would do that, he could probably get plenty of his housemates to sign up then.

He thought a little on the favourites list. Some of the things he had never gave much thought to until now. Like his favourite colour or belonging. He had never been asked such questions before.

For his favourite belonging, Draco wrote in that it was his Advanced Potions book. He'd been given it by his paternal grandmother right before she died. He was only six at the time, and he had dearly loved her. She'd been very good at Potions and wanted Draco to be too. Draco knew she'd be proud of his top marks in the subject.

For a past time, he chose flying. The whir of the wind in his ears was enough to make all his troubles temporarily go away, putting his mind at ease. It was therapeutic.

He had to think a little about what his true favourite colour was. As a Slytherin, he was expected to like green, and he did, but it was not his _favourite_. He actually quite liked blue. A dark blue. Midnight perhaps? He wasn't sure of the actual tone, just so long as it was a dark one.

Draco's favourite Hogwarts class was easy: Potions, of course.

For food and drink, he couldn't pass up on an apple, specifically the green ones, and Draco had a sweet tooth, so he wrote down butterbeer as his favourite drink.

When he got to choosing his favourite holiday, Draco paused. Surely here, most people would mark down Christmas. He liked Christmas: gifts, family, a break from school, but if this was _really_ a way to connect with someone, he'd prefer to get someone who wasn't so simple-minded, so even though Christmas was high on the list, he scribbled in summer, as he quite liked the lengthy warm weather and the vacation to the beach every year that he and his family went on. It was a time where Draco didn't have to stress much about anything and just have… _fun_ …

Choosing a favourite animal was another question that made him have to think. He admired many of them, contrary to what people believed— he had been deemed an animal hater since that one episode back in his third year with that hippogriff. In the end, he decided that the black panther stood out the most in his mind.

The last thing on the list was to choose either nighttime or daytime. Naturally, Draco chose daytime. He _was_ scared of the dark, after all, (though, no one knew of it) and was often grateful that Vincent was too, as he had lit a flameless candle every night before bed since his first day attending Hogwarts.

So, his Advanced Potions book, flying, dark blue, apples (green ones), butterbeer, the summer holiday, black panthers, and the day were his favourite things. He stared at his answers, wondering how on Earth they'd manage to find someone with these same interests. They weren't too common, well, except for flying.

He was eventually going to find out who held these same interests, but it would be his luck that he'd be told that he was incompatible with anyone.

Draco amused himself with that thought and plucked out three strands of hair from his head before dropping them into the envelope and sealing it.

He found that he was a little anxious to know who he would get. It was going to be a _long_ eight weeks, no doubt.


	2. Two

All anyone spoke about for the next week and a half was the owlpals. While Hermione supported the idea and was a bit excited over the thought of talking to someone for several weeks without knowing their identity, she thought studying for the O. to be much more pressing. Evidently, her fellow classmates did not think the same.

"What will they do if there's an odd number of students who sign up?" Seamus wondered, hovering over a paper from the packet. "I hope I get someone who likes to create spells— that's my favourite pastime!"

"Bombs more like," Ron corrected.

"They're still spells," Seamus defended his work. "I can't help it that most of them go wrong!"

"They may assign two owlpals for a special student who can handle the workload," Hermione answered Seamus's 'question', pointingly dotting the last period of her Potions essay. She let out a satisfied sigh. One more subject to go before she was finished for the night.

"And that student would be you?" Harry teased with a cocky grin.

"If _they_ think I would be capable of it, yes. But I'm already busy with my Prefect duties and my studying for the O. . I certainly wouldn't turn another one down though!"

"Merlin!" Ron gaped at Hermione's finished Potions paper. "You're already done with Snape's essay?!" he squeaked.

"It was _easy_ , Ron! I studied knotgrass in the Second Year for the Polyjuice potion! This is just a refresher course for me! And it isn't hard to name four places where you can find knotgrass on Hogwarts grounds!"

"I can only name one…" Ron said, as if no other such place existed.

"Did you get the lake?" Harry asked, leaning over Ron's paper to read it.

"There's some in the lake?"

Harry nodded. "And I've also seen some growing in pots somewhere…" Harry nibbled on a licorice whip, thinking. "Can't remember where…"

"The main path of the school; right in front of the entry gates, it's used as a warning for wandering creatures looking for new homes; to prevent an overpopulation of growth. There's no reason for them to be frightened of it, since the knotgrass isn't unkempt, but for whatever reason, the stray animals don't venture in."

Ron stared at her. "It's like your brain never shuts off! _How_ do you remember all this?!"

"You could too, if you wanted to! Look how you memorized that Quidditch book!"

"And I bet you couldn't even name one fact in it either," Ron said smugly.

"You're probably right, but it's not so important to me— just as school doesn't seem to be for you."

"It is so! I just like the practical stuff!"

"Before you can even do the practical stuff, you must first study it and understand everything about it— _that's_ how _I_ do so well with the _practical_ side of things, I know how it all works beforehand!"

"Hermione, did anyone ever tell you that you and Binns could have a battle of who would make the world's most boring professor?"

Hermione pursed her lips, keeping to herself on what she thought the type of professor Ron would make if he were one.

Thankfully, he'd never make it as one.

"So, how do I do this? Where's the last spot that can be found for the knotgrass?"

"Oh, I don't know, Ron. I'd _hate_ to _bore_ you with the specifics!"

"Oh, Hermione!" Ron whined. "Come on! Help me!"

Hermione huffed, unsure why in Merlin's beard she was even bothering to slide Ron's paper toward her to read it over. "One day, I'm not going to be here to hold your hand anymore!"

Ron looked terrified at the thought, then he laughed. "Don't be silly, Hermione, of course you are! You like to socialize, and we're your only friends!"

She slammed her quill down, spilling the ink pot in the process. Ron practically screamed at the site of the black puddle soaking into half his page, completely ruining his sad excuse of an essay.

Hermione should have felt terrible, but she was too angry with his insult that she bagged up her books and papers and left without another word. She was sure if she spoke anything, she would have ended up saying something she'd immensely regret later.

Tears stung her eyes; what Ron said was true. The only friends she did have were he and Harry. She was too much of a Know-It-All to attract anyone else.

She wiped her eyes dry and put her things away, getting ready to do Prefect patrol with Hannah Abbott from Hufflepuff. Because of the house unity encouragement that the Heads were doing this year, Prefects were paired up with someone outside of their houses.

Hermione wasn't looking to forward to it; all Hannah talked about was Ernie MacMillian, her fellow Prefect in Hufflepuff who she had an enormous crush on. Though, the crush did distract her from her worries of getting bad grades— Hannah wasn't dumb, but she easily became stressed.

Down on the fifth floor, Hermione stood, waiting for Hannah. She was always late, which annoyed Hermione; she had a watch, she really needed to utilize it more often.

Finally, after nearly twenty minutes, she heard footsteps approaching. "Oh, there you are!" Hermione huffed. "I was about to start on my own—" She stopped when the person came to view. It wasn't Hannah. This person was too tall to be Hannah, and the hair was much too blond.

"Hello to you too, _Granger_ ," Malfoy sneered in disgust, as if he'd just come across a pile of dung rather than she. "If I had known it was you I'd be paired with, I'd have rejected the request to fill in for Abbott."

"What happened to Hannah?"

"I was approached by Professor Snape who asked if I would be so _kind_ and fill in for Abbott— he did not tell me why, but then again, I did not ask him. As if I care at all."

"No, because you don't care about anyone besides yourself." Hermione turned on her heel, gritting her teeth.

Great, an hour with the ferret. How _lovely_.

Malfoy wouldn't shut up about the owlpals either, going on and on, _bragging_ about how _pure_ and _smart_ his owlpal was going to be.

"And we've got the most sign ups too— well, I doubt many of you Gryffindors would even bother with it, and the _Hufflepuffs_ —" he said this word as if they didn't even exist and were some silly, made up being. "—any of them would probably _forget_ they were part of something. Their inability to focus on anything—"

"Quiet!" Hermione suddenly demanded in a whisper, hearing something off to the right. She had been making an effort to tune out his rambling of how _incredibly_ perfect he was and focusing more on their job as patrols.

" _You_ don't get to tell _me_ what to do! How _dare_ you—"

"I heard something!"

"Well, I didn't! You must be hearing things. Maybe you should go see the mediwitch, she can help you with your problem."

Hermione ignored him and ran on the tips of her toes with her wand out. She heard Malfoy snickering behind her.

"Do you think it's a _monster,_ Granger? Surely you're not frightened?"

No, she knew it was a student, but she wanted her wand out just in case. She had been attacked with a spell once when she was patrolling the halls with Ron. She knew it had been a Slytherin, used as a way to distract them so they could get away.

"It's a bit hypocritical of you, Granger," Malfoy said under his breath. He had stopped right next to her while she listened for noise. "What, with how much you, Potter and Weasley snuck out of your dorms past curfew."

"As if you're any different? _You_ assign first years detention if they don't _literally_ bow down to you!"

Malfoy laughed. "That was priceless! I haven't done that in a few days… I should try that again!"

"You are an awful Prefect!" she spat.

"Yes, and your boyfriend, Weasel-bee is _such_ an angel."

"He's not my boyfriend!"

"Oh, so he finally came to his senses about you? I should shake his hand—"

Hermione growled. "If you don't shut your wide, hate-spewing mouth, I'll shove my fist into it and gag you with it!"

Malfoy's eyes widened a little, likely thinking of the time she had popped him in the face for his hatefulness. When he made no comment, she turned from him and proceeded down the corridor.

"So, it's Potter then, is it? You _like_ him? Does he make your insides _flutter_? Do you get jealous when he and that Ravenclaw seeker exchange googly grins?"

"He's just a _friend_!" Hermione practically shouted, becoming overly infuriated with him.

" _Oh_." Malfoy grinned, his eyes glinting with dark humour. "I see… even your precious little blood-traitors don't want to soil themselves with _you_. I can't say I blame them—"

Hermione aimed her fist square for his nose, connecting it perfectly. Malfoy cried out in pain and held his damaged nose, blood dripping from his hand.

Hermione gave him a scathing look. "You were _clearly_ warned," was all she said and left him to deal with his problem on his own. After five years of knowing Draco Malfoy, she was _not_ going to feel bad for what she'd just done. He deserved every pulse of pain from that broken nose.

*/*

He didn't tell anyone who'd broken his nose. Draco simply told Pomfrey that there was an enchanted ball bouncing around the corridors (he blamed this on Peeves), and he hadn't gotten out of the way fast enough.

Really, if anyone knew that a girl had injured him, he'd _never_ hear the end of it.

In the past two weeks, before his incident with Granger, Draco had successfully bribed over two dozen of his housemates into signing up. After word got around, many who already signed up themselves made comments saying that they wished they'd waited so they could have made a little money off Draco.

"If we manage to get the most people who make it to the end, I'll host a party myself," Draco promised them with a grin. Some of the younger Slytherins would sign up just for that. A Draco-hosted party was one nobody wanted to miss: free butterbeer, snacks, and 'door prizes'? Who could refuse that? Even Professor Snape would make an appearance to snag a few free sweets (of course, he just used the excuse that he came in to make sure nothing was getting out of hand, but Draco knew there was an ulterior motive for his showing up).

"I have a feeling we already have the most participants of all the houses," Blaise told Draco at breakfast one morning. "I've been asking around; some people are signing up just because they've made it into a competition."

"It's been a rippling effect, all thanks to you, Malfoy," Theo said from his place next to Blaise.

"It would be wicked if we achieved the most owlpal sign ups, and then McGonagall gave us extra points for our effort!" one of the younger, more naive Slytherins added.

Draco snorted. "She'd never do that! Only Gryffindors get extra, special points!" He took that moment to toss a scowl at the Gryffindor table. His lip curled when he spotted Potter and his pathetic friends; Granger sat with her nose in a book, thinking it actually would help her exceed her blood's limits. Potter was oblivious to everyone around him as he shifted through the Daily Prophet, and the Weasel was stuffing his chipmunk face, putting Gregory and Vincent to shame.

Draco pushed his plate away. He wasn't at all hungry anymore after seeing any of that. By now, he should know better than to look over there while he was eating.

"Say, Vincent…" he said in thought, smirking at how incredibly evil he could be. "Wouldn't it be _lovely_ if you or Gregory got Ronald Weasley as your owlpal?"

"Merlin, Draco!" Vincent gasped in complete disgust. "Why must you torture me so?!"

Gregory shuddered. "Yeah! You're a bloody tosser!"

"Oh, _relax_ , as if _he's_ —" Draco tossed his head toward the red-headed weasel-bee. "—actually going to do anything that may increase his intellectual points from two to five."

"The only one from Potter's fan club that'll sign up would be Granger," Daphne pointed out reasonably.

Draco refrained from putting a hand to his nose, remembering the injury she'd given him two days before. He nodded, agreeing with Daphne. "And unless your favourite pastime is being an insufferable Know-It-All, I doubt _anyone_ is going to end up with _her_."

Pansy laughed, overly amused by this. "Imagine what her face is going to look like when they tell her that she has no match!"

Draco chuckled, delighted with that image. "She'll probably run off and sob like a little _first_ year!" Everyone joined in laughter at this.

"All joking aside," Theo started, once the laughter had died down, "she'll probably get a Puff."

Draco scrunched up his face. "As long as she does and not me."

"You'd rather have a Gryffindor?" Vincent asked with heavy curiosity.

"No, of course not, Vincent— gosh, are your parents that closely related— I'm expecting a Ravenclaw."

Several of the surrounding Slytherins bobbed their heads in agreement, also wanting a Ravenclaw.

"I would rather get a Hufflepuff over a Mudblood," Gregory muttered, forking a link of sausage before shoving the entire thing into his mouth.

"With as much as you and the members of the Hufflepuff house like to eat, I'd wager that's who you'll get!"

Gregory sent Draco an unamused look, but he didn't make a comeback. He likely thought Draco was right. He was too dumb for a Ravenclaw— as if he would mention a book at all on his favourites list— and Draco couldn't picture him getting a Gryffindor— at least not one that would bother signing up to be an owlpal.

Draco actually pitied Gregory (and Vincent too), but a Hufflepuff _would_ be better than a _Mudblood_ ; he'd agree to that.

Thinking about his own owlpal, Draco scanned the Ravenclaw table in wonder of which one would be assigned to him. Some were rather strange, like Looney Lovegood, but others were normal enough. Plenty were Purebloods too, so that was a relief. If he was going to be forced to mingle outside of the Slytherin house, Ravenclaw would be his choice.

David Greyberry would make a decent person to converse with, Draco mused, looking at a young man who always made sure his uniform was in perfect order. Greyberry could have fit well into Slytherin. Blaise once said he heard that the sorting hat considered placing him in Slytherin, but Greyberry had really wanted Ravenclaw. He got high grades (though, Draco's was obviously better), and didn't act insane in any way. Most of the Ravenclaw ladies swooned to him too, so Draco saw some similarities between Greyberry and himself.

What if Draco got Cho Chang? She was popular, flew her broom in her spare time and loved Quidditch. Draco smirked. Potter would just simply _adore_ if Draco got Chang as an owlpal. But really, Draco wouldn't want her for any other reason than to torture Potter. They spent enough time in the Pitch together and neither liked the other. Potter may have something to do with that, but since they were Seekers on opposing teams, maybe that was the main reason.

It would honestly be for the best for Draco to get an owlpal who _didn't_ play Quidditch at Hogwarts.

Felicio Eastchurch (a seventh year with brownish hair) played Exploding Snap, even competing in tournaments. Theo talked about him occasionally (he, too, was in the Exploding Snap Club). He was supposed to be very quick with his hands.

And then there was Marcus Belbey, who appeared to inherit a family talent in Potions just as Draco had, but besides that, Draco didn't know anything more about him. But then, that was the point of this assignment: getting to know someone outside your sorted house.

The constant wonder was going to kill him. How could the professors expect anyone not to try and figure out who their owlpal was?! He wondered how strong concealing spells on those books were going to be, because Draco knew of a select few people who would sign up just to make a game out of breaking the Charms that were set. He grinned as the Weasley twins came to his mind. They would likely cause a 200 point deduction for Gryffindor. That pair was too curious for their own good. Draco didn't doubt that they would try breaking the wards on the books.

That was fine by Draco.

*/*

"What do _you_ want?" Hermione growled when Malfoy sat down at their table in Potions. Anytime he _chose_ to be near them, it wasn't for good intentions.

"Can't get enough of Hermione's fist, can you?" Harry asked him, making Ron snicker.

Malfoy sent her a scowl. "You must have a hard time keeping your mouth closed, Granger," he muttered, otherwise ignoring Harry and Ron.

"Anyway, I was thinking, since we're on the edge of adulthood, and a few of us actually have titles, that perhaps, with this whole unity thing, that we could… set a decent example for our peers…?" He blankly looked at Hermione, waiting for a response.

"We don't trust you, Malfoy," Harry said. "Go away!"

"Professor!" Draco called out to Snape, eyeing Harry as he did it. "Potter doesn't appreciate the hard work you and the other professors are doing to unite our houses; could that possibly be why he wasn't made a Prefect?"

Harry's green eyes darkened at Malfoy's childish stunt.

"That's exactly why, Mr. Malfoy," Snape's patronizing drawl came from the front of the room. "It seems Potter could learn a little lesson on unity this evening at 7:30."

Malfoy smirked at Harry's glaring eyes.

"You're such an arse, Malfoy!" Hermione muttered.

"Oh, Proff— _Ow_!" Malfoy wailed at Hermione's kick to his shin.

"Mr. Malfoy?"

"Oh, I was just wondering if it would be alright for the four of us to share this bottle of lacewing flies here?"

Professor Snape nodded. "That is what it's there for."

"Why are you really here?" Ron asked when they were told to carry on with the lesson. He wasn't even paying attention to Harry who was gently shaking out the lacewing flies into a bowl; the lesson for that day was to study their activity, record it while also having to collect two spoonfuls of them. It was hard since they were very lively and tiny.

"Just don't worry about the ferret," Hermione advised him, quickly scribbling down her thoughts pertaining to the lesson. With her wand, she cast a spell that immobilized the escaped, scattered pests and flicked it to corral them back into the bowl.

She and Malfoy instantly began taking their measurements, Malfoy shoved her hands out of the bowl. Hermione huffed in annoyance, but waited with crossed arms until he was finished with his two spoonfuls.

"I see that you've finally learned your place," he whispered to her, his smirk widening into a wicked grin.

Harry and Ron uprooted from their chairs, shouting out words. Professor Snape coldly scolded them, removed house points, and gave them each another detention.

Malfoy tutted. "You Gryffindors have severe issues with controlling yourselves."

The lesson finished after that, Hermione didn't even stay behind to help clean the mess up. She snatched her bag up, pinching the corners of her damp eyes and darted out of the room. She found an unused closet to pull herself together in, immersing herself a while later with her head held up high and went off to Ancient Ruins class.

Malfoy sat with them at the next Potions lesson too, but when the Trio refused to say anything to him, after what happened the last time, he actually worked in silence.

Professor Snape awarded the ferret fifteen points for 'making an effort to mingle in with his peers'. But Harry, Ron, and Hermione all knew he was up to something, though they didn't know what it was.

They were allowed to forget about it though, that night, when the owls made their evening delivery. Over half the student body got packages, and there was an excited hum of voices as they opened their packages given to them from signing up for the owlpal program.

There wasn't much inside: extra quills and pots of ink, the special book with the paper they were to write on, and a note.

There were lots of sounds of paper ripping, and half the noise died down as everyone read their note. Hermione read hers quickly in excitement, and reread it several times before she was able to settle down and focus on what the words meant.

_To assist with the possibility of an endless friendship and having something in common, we have matched you with your owlpal based on your listed favourites. Your owlpal and you have five matches:_

_Your favourite belonging: Hogwarts, A History: First Edition_

_Your favourite colour: blue_

_Your favourite holiday: summer_

_Your favourite animal: cat_

_Nighttime or daytime: day_

_We hope you have a wonderful experience with your owlpal!_

Hermione immediately started writing her first letter to her mystery owlpal. She wasn't the only one. The noise had really mellowed down as those who had received an owlpal began to write their first letter.

_Dear Owlpal,_

_I hope you're as excited as I am about this program! The last couple of weeks have been just as bad as it is on Christmas morning, when you're waiting for the sun to come up so you can wake up your family and share wonderful, unforgettable memories with them! Thankfully, it didn't get in the way of my studies! I suppose the next eight weeks are going to be just the same though, as we wait to put a face to the person writing these letters._

_Can you believe we matched so many favourites? I hadn't expected to get someone who liked 'Hogwarts, A History' just as much as I do! What's your favourite chapter? I like chapter seven a lot, that's the one with all the house-elf information, but I'm sure you already know that._

_What were your other favourites? For pastime, I put down reading; my favourite class is Arithmancy; I had Beef Wellington for my favourite food, and tea for my favourite drink._

_Hope to hear from you soon,_

— _Your Owlpal._


	3. Three

By the fact that Draco's owlpal chose a book as their favourite thing they owned, Draco was sure he'd gotten a Ravenclaw— which was not surprising at all. And his owlpal's favourite time to spend was reading: what Puff could sit still long enough to read? What Gryffindor would have the brains to read?

Just one.

He laughed to himself, thinking of Granger and the thought of her not being paired with anyone. It would be comical, to say the least.

Nonetheless, if the Gryffindor _Princess_ hadn't been assigned an owlpal, he would have heard by now. He pitied the person who got her.

Draco focused on the first letter he had gotten from his owlpal, not wishing to give that know-it-all Gryffindor anymore of a thought. There were a lot of exclamation marks, and he wondered if he may have gotten someone a little younger than him: the excitement practically screamed out.

 _Wonderful…_ He'd have to read letters from a person who couldn't control their emotions, even on _paper_.

 _Only one letter a week,_ he reminded himself. Just one letter. He could easily do this.

He took his time in writing a response, being one of the few participants who didn't immediately start writing as soon as the package from the Heads had arrived. He wasn't one to start random conversations; he'd let his owlpal do that. And judging by the rambling going on in the first paragraph of the letter, Draco's owlpal would have no problem with giving him a few topics to write about.

He would have to introduce himself in an anonymous way…

He nibbled on the end of his pen in deep thought. How could he do this without giving away his identity? He couldn't say he was Pureblood: that, with the book choice and Potions class he picked as his favourites, the person would clue in that he was a Slytherin.

Was he allowed to lie?

As a test, Draco wrote down in the owlpal book: _I'm a vampire from Galaxy Tryffold._

The words did not get erased.

So he could lie: he certainly wasn't a vampire, and Galaxy Tryffold only existed in a fictional book series that Blaise couldn't get enough of— Draco had only read the first part of the trilogy. He preferred reading something more intellectual.

Draco decided that he wouldn't say he was a Pureblood. This was going to be a challenge in itself. His Pureblood status was about everything he had, but if his owlpal had any brains at all, they'd know exactly who he was if he told them of his blood status— or they may eventually figure it out sometime during the next eight weeks.

Draco wasn't going to bring it up then, and if his owlpal did, he'd simply ignore the subject and not make a response. And then, if they kept pestering him about it, he'd just lie and deal with it later once he got the 100 house points after the program was completed.

What if they asked about his family? Could he keep it vague? Or was he going to have to lie about that too?

And house-elves! His owlpal mentioned the chapter about house-elves in the _Hogwarts: A History_ book, this probably meant that his owlpal didn't have one and longed to own one.

So his owlpal was likely _poor_ …

Already, Draco was regretting his decision in signing up for the program.

"Draco, _I_ don't even own a house-elf," Vincent pointed out when Draco had mentioned that he thought his owlpal was poor because of their heavy interest in house-elves.

"Yeah, just because someone doesn't have a house-elf—or a dozen in your case—" Goyle rolled his eyes. "—doesn't mean someone's poor."

"My aunt is really wealthy, and she believes in house-elf rights. She pays them to work for her," Theo spoke up.

"That's ridiculous! They don't work for pay!" Draco said in disbelief.

Theo shrugged. "I'm just telling you what I've seen with my own eyes. I think Zipper hoards his pay though."

"Why on Earth would you buy a house-elf just to pay them to work?! That's nonsense!"

Blaise looked up from the letter he had gotten from his own owlpal. "As much as you like to pretend that there aren't any free house-elves in existence, quite a few have been set free and actually enjoy it."

Draco snorted. People needed to stop doing that. House-elves were going to decline in value if more were set free.

Blaise was right though; Draco _did_ know that there were a few free house-elves. Thankfully, it wasn't too common here in most of Europe, as there were many people who would capture them and re-enslave them.

"That's a cruel thing to do," Gregory said when Draco had brought up that fact.

"Yeah, how can they even do that?!" Vincent chimed in.

"They've no rights; the Ministry still considers them an animal," Theo explained.

"Well, they are," Draco pointed out.

"How is their status any different than a goblin?" Vincent asked.

"Goblins fought for their rights and won, they obviously have proven that they have the means to live without someone holding their hand the entire time. You don't have a house-elf, so you can't make a valid opinion about them. I've grown up around the creatures; they are pathetic, needy things and can barely breathe without someone having to remind them to do it! Without us, they would have gone extinct years ago."

"Maybe you need to seek a new breeder then," Theo advised him, his eyes glued to his letter. "The one I have is quite independent."

"Or perhaps you just need to get your head out of the clouds," Blaise added.

Draco glared at Blaise who was the only one who had the guts to look him in the eye when he stated something that he disagreed with Draco on. " _One_ house-elf isn't going to make a difference." Draco drew the hangings to his bed for privacy, grunting to himself in annoyance.

How dare they gang up on him! _They_ were the foolish ones! How many house-elves would _die_ if it weren't for the wizards who housed them?

Too many…

But his dorm mates would know that if they would actually read anything that would _educate_ them.

"You think you know everything?!" he snarled at them through the draping. "Try reading _If I Was a Free One_ by Wimpy Dooling! And just in case your liberated _mummies_ neglected to tell you, that book was written by an _actual_ house-elf!"

He rolled over on his side, pushing the owlpal stuff out of his way. He was too irritated to use them now.

His owlpal would just have to wait for the next morning before he'd write a reply!

*/*

_Dear Owlpal,_

_I don't have much time this morning, so my words to you might seem a little rushed. My schedule is a busy one on Mondays, but I just wanted to clear things up:_

_It appears that our matches are not exactly in tune, but it's not like I expected for anyone to like much of anything I marked down. We'll just have to make do, I suppose._

_No, my favourite book is NOT_ Hogwarts: A History _(notice the capital letters here?). My favourite book is actually a potion book, and it's not because my favourite class is Potions (but I do like Potions best because I'm excellent in it)._

Draco left out that Snape was his favourite professor. Only a Slytherin would say that.

Snape didn't diddle around when he taught his lectures. He kept things straight to the point, and Draco liked that about him.

_The book I love was given to me by someone very special before they died. Some things have far more value to them than just a price tag— someday you might understand this._

_Cats? Me? No. I wrote down panthers, but they are both a part of the feline family, so whatever, I can deal with that 'match' of ours._

_Your favourite class is Arithmancy? Dear Merlin, you need help! Please tell me why you like this subject; I do hope you don't take it too seriously? It's alright for pure entertainment, but it has little use beyond that._

_My mother has a wonderful Beef Wellington recipe, perhaps I can get it from her if you'd like. She probably wouldn't mind sharing it. I deeply enjoy Beef Wellington myself and ask for it on occasion when I go back home for the holidays._

The last bit was a little bit of a lie, it was actually his mother's _elf_ that held the recipe, but since his mother owned Bowtie, she also owned Bowtie's recipe. If his owlpal wanted it, Draco would have no problem getting it from the elf, she was quite easy going and was always happy to share her cooking tips— not that Draco ever had been interested before, but Vincent would listen carefully to Bowtie when he'd come over to the Manor.

_Looks like I wrote the page I needed for the first letter. Good, I can go now. Someone's calling me for something._

_Oh, and one last thing: must you use so many exclamation marks? This program isn't that exciting…_

*/*

"You got yourself a Slytherin there," Ron said with a scrunched up face.

"Oh, you don't know for sure!" Hermione grumbled. The first letter from her owlpal was a little more abrasive than she'd expected. She had thought that her owlpal would be just as excited as she was, but they weren't. It was disappointing.

It was also upsetting that her owlpal seemed insulted to think that she had originally assumed that their favourite book was the same as hers.

She'd never find someone who liked _Hogwarts: A History_ as much as she did...

"I've known Ravenclaws to be just as pompous and rude," Harry pointed out. "And the first thing a Slytherin would have asked was, _are you a Pureblood like myself_?"

Hermione sighed. "Harry, not all Slytherins are Pureblood."

"Name one that's a Muggleborn like yourself," Ron dared her.

"Maybe there are one or two, but they could be just afraid to admit it," Hermione said. "Imagine the attention they would get—"

"A Slytherin would love the attention—"

"Not the negative attention they would get from their own house!" she cut Ron off.

"Hermione, Slytherin has never and will never have a Muggleborn sorted into it— it goes against all they believe in."

Harry didn't add to Ron's comment, which usually meant he didn't agree with what his best mate had said. He scribbled down something on his Herbology homework, not wanting to get in between Hermione and Ron's arguing.

"Just because the Slytherin founder was against people like me—"

"Hermione!" Ron protested before she could finish defending their rival house. "They treat you like the name they call you!"

"Not everyone is like Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson, Ronald!" Hermione scolded with a flaring nose. "Now, we're supposed to be setting aside our opinions about the other houses this year, and that includes Slytherin!"

"But Draco is the Slytherin _Prince_! He's the _prime_ example of what they—"

"Draco Malfoy is an arrogant, spoiled, rich arse who has never had to work a day in his life for _anything_ — that's _not_ what Slytherin is really supposed to be about!"

"You can't be serious?!"

"Oh, just read the bloody book already, will you?!" she snapped at Ron, speaking about _Hogwarts: A History_ , which gave detailed information on every house. Sure some Slytherins had been sneaky, unfair and sometimes evil in the past, but not all of them were, not even _most_ of them were. It wasn't fair to judge the entire house because of a few bad apples like Malfoy, who had the brains to do whatever he wanted but only spent his time bullying people he thought were 'beneath' him.

One day, eventually, the actions during his school days were going to come back and nip at him; _hard_. Would he learn from it? Probably not, but Draco Malfoy was not her problem either, so Hermione wasn't going to care about it— why should she care at all about that snivelling, little ferret?

Hermione didn't make a reply to her owlpal right away, wanting to allow her some time to think about how she was going to make a response. Her owlpal did seem a little rude, and perhaps somewhat arrogant, but she wasn't going to give up. She'd make it all the way to that party. The Professors assigned her this person for a reason: they must have thought they were the perfect match. She had eight weeks to get to know this person, that was plenty of time to form something.

She decided that she wouldn't take offense of what her owlpal wrote (even though they appeared to have belittled her a bit). Maybe that's not how they meant to come across. They did say that they were a little rushed this morning.

Hermione went to the library between her classes that day to find a book for Ron. She knew she was wasting her time as he didn't read anything he didn't have to, but she felt he needed to be educated— _enlightened_ , more like. At this point, his bigotry against the Slytherins was no better than the way Malfoy treated anyone outside his little circle of Slytherin friends.

"Oh, this is just _lovely_! Though, I don't know why I should be surprised to see _you_ here!"

Hermione stiffened at the voice, cursing herself for even thinking about _him,_ likely jinxing her afternoon. She pulled a book from the shelf, glaring at Malfoy who'd just joined her in an aisle.

He was alone, something she was beginning to notice this year as she'd had the _privilege_ of seeing him more than she wanted.

"I do hope you disinfect the pages of every book after your filthy fingers have touched them. I make sure I do it when I first get them; knowing people like _you_ read them!"

"Shove off, ferret!" she snapped, gripping the book tighter in her fist.

Malfoy's eyes narrowed and dropped down to the book she was holding. "Why would you possibly want to read _that_? Looking to know what to expect of _me_ in a few years from now? Maybe if you come crawling to me, I'll give you a job— does that surprise you? Me, hiring someone with filthy blood like yourself? Well, it's not strange at all, really. We need people like you to do the unpleasant tasks that pay too little— all the way at the bottom— that's where you belong, after all."

Hermione laughed bitterly, upset by his words, knowing he truly believed that she deserved nothing more than a crummy job beneath him.

"You think you could be as great as one of these people?" She laughed again in mere sarcasm, tapping the cover of the book. She knew he thought highly of himself, but he was going to crash and burn as soon as he was out of school. Once he was out of his sheltered life, he'd be lost, and because he spent so much time bullying others, he'd not know how to do anything more.

He expected himself to be a leader? An _employer_? Of who; his friends? They would be the only ones to work for him, as anyone else would be _crazy_ to even _think_ about it!

"Just be on your way, and let me be— for once in your pathetic life, ignore the fact that I even exist!" Hermione warned him quietly. "Unless you just like it when I break your nose?"

Malfoy sneered, curling up his lip. His eyes shined with hate. "What about the whole _unity_ rubbish? Aren't you supposed to look past the _colours_ of my house and _respect_ me?"

"I respect your _sorting_ Malfoy, just not your _personality_! Frankly, your attitude is for the birds! I'm shocked you have any friends at all— you're lucky you're even _in_ Slytherin! Any _other_ house would have shunned you for the way you treat people!"

Hermione spun around, walking away from him. How she had the will to not give him another broken nose, she didn't know, but obviously, he hadn't learned from it twice before, so why bother with it now— it'd just make her hand ache all over again!

He _really_ wasn't worth it!

By the time dinner came around, Hermione had cooled off from the obnoxious males surrounding her and was able to give her owlpal a thorough response.

_Dear Owlpal,_

_I took your warning seriously, hoping that you hadn't intended to come off as rough as you did. I didn't realize that I would end up getting someone who wasn't as eager to participate in the program as much as I am._

_Speaking of which, does that mean you only signed up for Owlpals just for the points? Well, I guess I should have expected it… About everyone else has. But you should take note that I'm going to return every letter you send, I do NOT want to fail this program (notice these capital letters here?). Hopefully, you feel the same._

_As you mentioned in your letter, you're right that our interests aren't exactly the same. I was not informed that our favourites weren't exactly a match, so anyone could have easily made the mistake._

_I think it's lovely that you treasure an object with such sentiment. I don't have anything like that personally. You could say that I'm very lucky to not have lost someone so special to me. I can only imagine how that would feel. May I ask whom it was that you lost? Is that too personal? If so, disregard this question…_

_My favourite belonging was my first book bought for Hogwarts, so that's why I like it so much._

Here, Hermione stopped herself from writing that it was also because she was a Muggleborn. When she was eleven, _Hogwarts, a History_ had prepared her for the magical world that she had not known about.

There weren't many Muggleborns in Hogwarts, which would narrow down her identity, and if she _did_ have a Slytherin owlpal, she didn't want to ruin the upcoming 'friendship' she was supposed to be having with them for the next many weeks. Who knew what her owlpal thought of Muggleborns.

This was why things were kept anonymous.

She'd just have to deal with their reaction later. If she was lucky, her owlpal would end up getting over the fact that she'd not been born to magical parents. And if not, oh well, she tried and won points for Gryffindor. Plus this would add an additional credential for whatever career she'd choose after graduating.

_Oh, you don't like Arithmancy…? That's a shame. It's an interesting subject. Entertaining, like you've stated. I like it because it's relatively straightforward, involving no guesswork. It's not like Divinations, which is nothing but a bunch of unintelligible, dramatic, fabricated rubbish!_

_I would very much appreciate your mother's recipe. My parents don't cook (they are both very busy people). Hogwarts has introduced me to some exquisite cuisine! Thank you for that offer, perhaps I'll be able to do something nice for you too in the future._

_We should probably introduce ourselves now, I may as well go first: I'm a happy, only-child, who as you know has busy parents (summer is really the only time I get to spend with them, with the exception of an official holiday)._

_I have a pet cat at home. Her name is Bianca, and she loves my dad to pieces, so I couldn't bring her to Hogwarts. She likes to sleep around his neck at night. Dad complains about this (even in his letters!), but he doesn't honestly mind, he's used to it by now. I think he would miss her if I had brought her to Hogwarts with me._

_I have a cousin who I'm close to. She doesn't go to Hogwarts though; instead, my uncle schools her. She's quite crafty, and when we were younger, Penny and I used to have reading competitions. She was the only friend I had before Hogwarts. I don't talk to her much anymore though. She has a boyfriend now and spends all her time with him._

_Now, tell me about yourself. Do you have any siblings or friends outside of school? Any pets at home that you wish were with you now, or did you bring them to Hogwarts with you?_

_I do hope your next letter isn't so harsh, I hadn't meant to irritate you already, but just a small warning, my friends tend to tell me that I'm a bit on the annoying side; another thing you'll have to accept from me in these next few weeks. This includes my 'excessive' use of exclamation marks!_

_Sincerely, your Owlpal_

Hermione looked over at Ron who was scribbling away in his own Owlpal book (yes, he'd signed up, even with Hermione's warning that it was a lengthy commitment).

"How can she think that?!" Harry was saying next to Ron. "The Stormwalls have an excellent Seeker!"

"Much better than The Harpies do!" Ron exclaimed. He started cursing under his breath, upset over a nasty blotch from him smearing his ink. "Look at last year! Simpleton out-flew _everyone_ in the league!"

Apparently, Ron had been matched with a perfect owlpal: one just as crazy about Quidditch as he was. Maybe this girl will end up being his soulmate.

Hermione nearly snorted at the thought.

Later that night, in the common room, Hermione tried getting both Harry and Ron to look at the book she'd borrowed from the library. Naturally, Ron wanted nothing to do with _101 Things Slytherins Have Done That No One Will Acknowledge_.

"It's probably written by a Slytherin who wants you to blindly accept them."

But Ron couldn't logically argue when she read the "About the Author" fold to him. What could he say about a Hufflepuff willing to defend Slytherins?

"Just listen!" Hermione said impatiently when he rolled his eyes.

Ron sighed. "If I do, will you stop bothering me about it?!"

"If you give this an _honest_ thought."

"Alright…" he grumbled, leaning back into the sofa.

"Yolanda Juicyknot was known for healing over twenty-seven hundred injured _Muggles_ after an earthquake hit the shores of Japan."

"Knowing the Muggles, they thought it was an earthquake when in reality, it probably was an experiment gone bad. Look at Seamus, he's always blowing things up! Yolanda probably caused it."

Hermione pressed her lips together. "That was a real _earthquake_ , Ron! You just want to hate them! You're no better than half of them, you know!"

She snapped the book closed and hurled it into his lap. He groaned, clutching himself. "Merlin, Hermione!" he said with a gasp. "Watch where you're throwing that thing! Bloody well about hit my knockers!"

"You're an insensitive prick!" she screeched to him, stalking off.

He was supposed to be a _Prefect_ , but like Malfoy, he certainly wasn't acting like one! Those two could practically be brothers with how shallow they were!

Hermione threw herself into bed, screaming into her pillow, and ignoring her dorm mates who were asking what was wrong with her.

She was wasting her time anymore. People like that would never change if they hadn't already…

She was exhausted and hopeless, and she wanted to give up. Ron didn't understand how important his position as a Prefect was (he didn't even _want_ to. Like Malfoy, he only wanted the perks, _not_ the _responsibility_ ), and it was too stressful to work with him!

If her professors weren't counting on her to assist them with this whole unity thing, she'd seriously think about giving up!


	4. Four

Merlin, Draco's owlpal was an excessive chatterbox. At this point, he wondered if he had gotten a Hufflepuff after all. They weren't usually known for their intellects, but with the fact that his owlpal hadn't gotten too upset with his domineering letter, it made him question his original thoughts.

And it would certainly explain all those exclamation marks.

He quickly vanished away from the thought though. He couldn't grasp the idea of being a perfect match to a _Hufflepuff_.

"Draco!" Gregory came running into the common room, interrupting Draco's reading of his letter. Vincent was close behind him, each of them breathing hard to catch their breath. "You'll never guess what we just heard!"

Draco folded up his letter, neatly placing it back into the envelope that it had come delivered in. He'd obviously have to read it later if his friends were this excited. "What is it then?" he ordered impatiently, waiting to hear what they had to say.

"Weasel is now on Gryffindor's Quidditch team!" Vincent informed.

"You're yanking me?!" Draco demanded with a laugh of disbelief.

"It's true!" Gregory said, full of giddiness. "He's the new Keeper!"

"He's taking over for Woods!" Vincent added.

"What in Merlin's name is Potter thinking?! Weasley can't catch a Quaffle for his _life_!"

But it mattered little to Draco. This just ensured Slytherin the win and that didn't upset him in the slightest.

"Alright," Draco announced later that afternoon, passing out sheets of parchment to his circle of friends. "We have a couple of weeks to perfect this." Blaise, Pansy, Vincent and Gregory eyes scanned over the words that he had written during lunch earlier.

Pansy giggled. "Weasley's face is going to be as red as his hair when he hears this!" Draco smirked, picturing Weasel's tomato-red, angered expression.

"Might I make a small suggestion?" Blaise spoke up after a thorough read of the lyrics that Draco had written.

"What is it?" Draco wondered. Blaise was brilliant when it came to words, so he was up to hearing him out.

Blaise quickly scrawled out a verse while Draco read over his shoulder as he did it. " _Born in a bin_?" Draco laughed. "Blaise! That's brilliant!"

"The words are a little… _adolescent_ Draco," Pansy scrutinized.

"I wrote it for the Gryffindorks," Draco responded stiffly, mildly insulted. "It should be easy for them to understand. We all know that Weasel-bee is an absolute dunderhead."

Pansy shrugged indifferently, considering his reasoning.

"Now let's practice the music— Gregory, Vincent, you'll start off with the first verse, then Pansy for the second, and Blaise will sing the last— maybe once the chorus is sung, the rest of the house will join in while you're out in the stands. They're pretty good at following our lead."

"I don't want to do this, Draco" Gregory mumbled.

"Oh, now, your singing isn't that bad!"

But Draco soon learned that Gregory actually had a terrible voice. "Ugh!" Draco hollered out, cringing at Gregory's off-pitch note. "Gregory, the verse ends off in a C flat, what in the bloody hell key are you howling in?!"

"D sharp," Pansy supplied, giving Gregory an annoyed look. "Is there anything that you can't mess up, Goyle?"

"I dance better than _you_ ," he snarled. "At least _I_ don't step on my partner's toes!"

Draco winced, remembering the pain from the previous year when Pansy was just learning how to ballroom dance. The young woman was horrible at being a follower and hated the fact that she couldn't lead the dance just because she was a female.

"Shut your stuffer and just do it right!" she retorted threateningly.

"Pansy," Draco chastised softly, pinching the bridge of his nose, making her huff.

"He just doesn't get it!"

"Let's give him a _chance_ ," Draco didn't change his tone with her, knowing she'd listen to him better than anyone. "Gregory, how about just singing the chorus? I don't have time to educate you on the musical scales right now."

"Neither do I," Blaise said, checking his watch. It had been the fifth time that he had done it since the meeting.

"Got somewhere else to be?" Draco asked.

"I told Clementine that I'd help her study for the OWLs. She wants to get in the NEWT Transfiguration class, and she's beginning to doubt herself."

"Ah, she'll do fine," Draco said. "She's just falling victim of the pressure."

"Speaking of which, I'll need you to look over my essay before I turn it in," Vincent told Draco. "I want it to be superb. I can't have any mistakes this year."

"Fine, fine." He waved him off. Draco had been helping his friends with their work since second year, unwilling to have them drop out because they weren't smart enough to pass their end-of-the-year exams. "Let's gather up again tomorrow after dinner then."

The group then separated off, leaving Draco and Vincent on their own. The other three had prior engagements.

"Vincent," Draco sighed after reading over his essay. "Goblins used Moonstone too, don't leave that out. Snape will definitely want you to acknowledge that."

Vincent smacked a hand to his forehead. "Oh, that's _right_! I knew I was forgetting something!"

"And make sure you rewrite this. Your words look messy and rushed. Take your _time_ and make it neat. You know how he is."

Vincent nodded. "I planned to after I sought your advice. Thanks!"

"Mmhmm," Draco simply acknowledged. "I've got my own studying to do, so if you're finished, I'm off to exchange some books."

"Yeah, I'm good."

Draco shouldered his bag. It was full of books

but he had earlier charmed it so that no amount of books would make it heavy to carry. The charm was a useful spell especially for this year since he would have to do an exceptional amount of studying for the OWLs. He needed nine OWLs to get the classes that he wanted to attend at NEWT level. He was going to aim for all twelve though, just to broaden his options.

Madam Pince gave him a look as he approached her desk. She closely inspected each book that he had dropped off. When she found them in perfect order, she permitted him the ability to borrow a new set if he wanted.

Draco was going to need a few books on Runology and sadly, Muggles— not that he was at all interested in Muggles, but the class _would_ give him an extra OWL for his final score, which could help him later in life.

He looked around the Muggle section closely, not wanting anyone to see that he was 'interested' in studying the inferior breed and quickly darted into the aisle. Professor Burbage wanted her class to study how Muggles harness Electricity for what they call "Electric Power". This was Draco's first year in Muggle Studies, and the textbook that was required for the year was not very informative, so he was hoping to find a book specifically on the subject.

Using a spell that he had learned from his mother, he sent off a green flame to search the books for the words "Electric Power". One by one, every book that contained the term, lit up with a green hue.

Keeping his ears in alert for anyone who may enter the Muggle section of the library, he skimmed through the books until he found one called, _Schaum's Outline of Basic Electricity_ , and after a brief reading, he learned that a Muggle actually wrote it. Thinking it might help him understand it better if he learned about it from an actual Muggle, he stuffed it into his bag. Draco felt he needed an additional book for cross-referencing though, just in case he didn't exactly understand the proper terms that the Muggle used. A book written by a wizard would definitely help in translation.

Just as he went to grab a book off the shelf, he heard footsteps approaching, and Draco scurried up the aisle, ducking around the corner, letting out a breath of relief. He cancelled his searching spell before his eyes caught sight of a bushy-haired Gryffindor who was sitting at a table, surrounded by several stacks of books. Figures that she'd be stressing over the OWLs already.

He stealthily strolled to Granger, stopping just behind her. He took a peek at the titles that she had picked out for her reading, wondering if she had chosen anything that he may have overlooked.

The know-it-all didn't even sense his presence, too absorbed in her reading.

"Think that's going to help you much?" he taunted, causing her to jump. Draco smirked, delighted to hear her startled gasp.

"Shove off, Malfoy!" she uttered under her breath, not wanting to make a disruption in the library, likely afraid that she'd be banned from re-entering. She'd positively go insane if that happened. The thought brought a grin to his face.

"You know," he said, picking up one of the books that she had piled up and fanned through the pages. "This piece of work won't help you get an OWL in Potions."

He watched her body tense up, and Draco chuckled triumphantly. Granger was too easy to annoy. It was too much fun to pick on her.

"Why would you care at all about what I choose to read?" she asked, forcing herself to be calm.

"Aren't we supposed to be practising House Unity?" He placed the book back onto the stack. "Figured you'd appreciate the enlightenment from a superior to your kind."

She snapped her book closed. "I'm going to refuse to talk to you until you take the House Unity Program seriously, Malfoy!" she announced irritability.

Draco rolled his eyes. The House Unity Program was pointless. Slytherins had been outcasted for centuries. The other houses weren't going to suddenly accept them with welcoming arms— and Slytherins surely wasn't going to do it back.

"Well, I'm disappointed," he said sarcastically. "I'm going to miss that squeaky, little voice of yours." He then decided that it was best to move when he saw that Madam Pince was making her rounds, edging herself toward them.

Draco would have to seek the other book that he needed at a later time.

*/*

_Dear Owlpal,_

_I am surprised to learn that you were nearly insulted by my blunt honesty. After stating that you don't like the guesswork that Divinations requires, I would think that someone such as yourself would appreciate speaking with someone as straightforward as myself. Alas, unfortunately for you, you're just going to have to put up with my abrasive personality for the next upcoming weeks. I absolutely refuse to sugarcoat things. It's just how I am, and I'm not going to apologize for it. Consider it a trade-off from having to put up with your overuse of the exclamation mark._

_From your criticizing, it sounds to me that you signed up for this program for fun? I cannot say that I did the same. So yes, I'll admit I signed up for Owlpals strictly for the points. You might be the only one in the school to have not signed up for the points though. One hundred points a person is an enormous amount for only having to write a letter every week. I also don't plan on dropping out of the program. You can expect a response to every one of your letters._

_It was my grandmother who had given me my most treasured item. She used to brew potions when she was alive, and I'd watch her do it. Sometimes, she taught me some of her recipes— the simpler, safer ones for a young child, of course. She would never risk putting me in harm's way._

_You must have been really excited to attend Hogwarts to treasure your first book bought for school, that or you're just a bookworm. I read a lot of books too, but none of that fiction junk. If I'm going to read something, it best be something useful. Fiction is a waste of my bloody time._

_I have enclosed my mother's Beef Wellington recipe, I wouldn't mind hearing what you think of it after you give it a try. It is truly the best I've had._

_I suppose I can tell you a little bit of myself without giving away who I am. I'm also an only child. I don't have any close relatives my age, but I do have plenty of friends. They all go to Hogwarts though._

_My companion (she is NOT a pet, I'm not sure if you know, but there is actually a difference between the two) is an owl. I don't think I should say her name, since she's here at Hogwarts with me, and it would likely reveal my identity. She was given to me on my fifth birthday, and she refuses to deliver anything until she gets a piece of ham. I actually have to keep a small supply in my trunk just for her. I find it humorous. She's an outright twat though._

_Anyway, I'm off to go study. I borrowed a book from the library recently, and I need to read it before bed._

The second letter that Hermione had gotten from her owlpal was a bit less rude, and she was happy enough with it. She admired the recipe that was given to her and couldn't wait to try it when she went home for the holiday.

Hermione made a note to write a reply after dinner that night. She had a busy day that day and didn't have the time to do it in the morning. If it were ever possible, she was listening to her professors even more closely, due to the tests that she'd have to endure at the end of the year.

That afternoon after their classes were through, Hermione went out to watch Ron's first practice on the Quidditch team. She sucked in a breath as he missed the shot that Katie Bell threw at him. Naturally, he was losing his patience, and his body language was giving it away as he kicked a leg out in utter frustration.

"Come on, Ron!" Ginny hollered out at him. "You can do it! Focus!"

Hermione clapped encouragingly. She was only there to support him. In truth, she couldn't wait to get inside where it was warm and snuggle up with a Charms book that had been calling her name.

The girls and a handful of other Gryffindors cheered out when he finally blocked Katie's shot.

"There you go!" his sister approved. "Do that more!"

Hermione's eyes shifted down to her book bag, something that she was always lugging around this year, not allowing herself to miss any chance to study, even if it was for two minutes. She pulled out the recent letter that she had received, reading it over, thinking how to respond to it.

"Mine has yet to reply," Ginny informed.

Hermione frowned. "That's unfortunate. This is my second here."

"Really?" Ginny peered over Hermione's arm curiously. "Have they said what house they're in?"

"No, but neither have I. I'm actually afraid to say that I'm a Gryffindor. I mean, I just don't want them to take a guess and get it right, ruining my chance at 100 points."

"Well, and if you talk a lot about books, it's probably better that they think you're a Ravenclaw. Everyone knows how well-read you are."

Hermione agreed.

"Do you have any idea who it could be?"

Hermione lifted her shoulders up. "Could be anyone. I don't associate with many people, especially outside of the house— aside from helping the random younger year who asks for my advice. I spend more time with my nose in a book, as you know. Besides, we aren't _supposed_ to know who it is, so I'm not even trying to figure it out."

Ginny nodded. She heaved out an exasperated sigh, then she changed the subject. "I dread next year. The OWLs sound stressing. I'm waiting for when it finally hits Ron. He's going to go bananas— _not_ looking forward to _that_. He's already moody enough right now!"

Hermione thinned her lips. It was just like Ron to wait until the last minute before he would realize that he should have been studying months before he even started.

"I suppose if all he wants to do is play Quidditch for the entirety of his life, he may think he doesn't need top grades."

Ginny snorted in amusement. "He will not be able to play professionally unless his skills improve!"

Hermione refrained from adding anything, not wanting to insult her friend, but she knew Ginny was right. It was disappointing that he wasn't taking his schooling very seriously.

_Dear Owlpal,_

_Now that I know your personality some, I won't mind your straightforward attitude. You had just caught me off guard, that's all._

_As a matter of fact, I DO know that there is a difference between a pet and a companion. A companion is considered equal to yourself, whereas a pet is something that you specifically own. I have a companion too, but that's all I'm going to say about him, because like you, I feel if I give out any details, you would discover my true identity._

_Yes, in my First year, I was extremely excited about Hogwarts. I had waited for AGES to attend, and to this day, it has been the most exciting event of my life._

_Like yourself, I read a lot, but I also read fiction. Or at least I used to. Lately, I've only had time for school books. The OWLs will take up a lot of my reading time this year. Speaking of which, how are you faring with the OWLs? My friends have yet to start taking it seriously, but I'm sure they will soon enough. Then they'll expect me to help them, and I'll do it. I don't know why, but I will._

_Anyway, I've got an early morning tomorrow, so I'm going to sign and seal this so it can be delivered. I look forward to your reply._

_Your Owlpal._

Hermione exhaled an exasperated sigh. As usual, the talk of the morning was none other than Quidditch. The Slytherin/Gryffindor match was fast approaching, and her friends were both nervous and excited about it.

She tried to ignore the breakfast chatter, but she was beginning to stress out. The OWLs were only seven months away, and Hermione still had a lot to try and cram into her head. At the moment, she was trying to absorb the text in her Ancient Runes book, but the conversation surrounding her was making it impossible.

Why in Merlin's beard was she struggling all of a sudden?! Hermione never had trouble tuning out the noise around her.

She shouldered her bag and got up. "I'll see you later," she told her friends, needing to escape the ruckus, but they were too engrossed in their conversation to have noticed her departure.

Hermione found an abandoned classroom nearby. Her first class that day would be the Potions class, so she didn't want to venture too far away from the dungeons. Snape would crucify her if she were late.

At ten minutes to nine, she looked up from her book when she heard a group of students walking by the classroom on their way to class. She took that as her cue to do the same and made way to the Potions Dungeon.

She chose a seat, noticing that Ron and Harry weren't yet there. Hermione got the book out that she would need for this class and neatly flattened out a parchment of paper so that she could take notes of the lecture.

A chair next to her scraped across the floor as it was pulled away from the table.

"We can share my book—" She stopped short when she looked up, seeing that it wasn't her red-headed friend who would normally sit on that side of her.

" _Granger_ ," Draco drawled out, stressing her surname as if it pained him to say it. He made himself comfortable next to her.

Hermione narrowed her eyes, wondering why he would choose to sit next to her. There were plenty of seats open elsewhere. "What have you got planned now?"

"Thought you were giving me the silent treatment?"

She growled out lowly and made to stand up. She really didn't care to deal with him today.

"Potter, Weasley, you've barely made it in on time. Take your seats now."

Hermione dropped back down into her chair as her friends came hurrying over before Snape could give them a detention. They sent looks of daggers at Malfoy who was 'innocently" brushing away an 'invisible' particle from his robes.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Harry seethed, knowing Malfoy wouldn't willingly sit with them without first a purpose.

"Did he do anything to you?" Ron whispered to Hermione.

"Excuse me over there." Snape was giving them a cold stare down. "Five points from Gryffindor."

The three Gryffindors glared at Malfoy who had smugly raised his eyebrows, taunting them further. Malfoy took a fiendish delight in annoying them, and all he had to do was be present.

"Heard you're the new Gryffindor Keeper, Weasley." Halfway into the class Malfoy finally revealed his reasoning of why he was sitting with them. Up until that point, he had been quiet, listening to his favourite professor talk about the Strengthening Solution that they would be expected to brew that morning. "Tryouts were that much of a bust this year, Potter?"

Harry stiffened, but he remained silent, trying to keep himself from latching onto Malfoy's bait.

"Or has Weasley's brown-nosing all these years finally paid off?"

"Cut it out, Malfoy," Hermione muttered, irritated that he was trying to cause a disruption.

"What, are you jealous, Mudblood? I'm sure Potter will do his best to reward you too."

"Don't listen to him," Hermione told Harry who was now chopping up leeches with extra effort, showing his growing anger.

Ron then accidentally tipped over his jar of leeches and the liquid from it travelled across the table. Hermione quickly cleaned it up before it could run off the table and soak her clothes, but the scene had not gone unnoticed: Snape gave Ron detention for wasting 'precious' Potion ingredients.

"You're such a toad, Malfoy," Hermione grumbled when the professor was out of hearing range.

"How is it _my_ fault that the Weasel has issues with handling what's in his grip?"

Hermione was incredibly thankful when the class was finished through. She had been able to brew a perfect Strengthening Solution. Unfortunately, Harry and Ron had failed miserably. No doubt caused by their Slytherin distraction.

"See you on the Pitch," Malfoy bid the boys farewell. "I'd wish you good luck, but it wouldn't do you any good."

* * *


	5. Five

_Dear Owlpal,_

_Well, now that we're on common ground, we can move on then and just put up with each other's personality, since we have little choice in the matter anyway._

_I wasn't asking for an explanation between pets and companions, in fact, I had clearly stated that I knew there was a difference, so there was little point for you to state it. And if you're trying to prove yourself to me, that's also a redundant thing to do. You have nothing to prove to me._

_You must have had little going on with your life if starting Hogwarts was the most thrilling day that you've ever experienced. I suggest getting out a little more. It sounds like you have lived a relatively boring life._

_The OWLs. Oh, yes. It's a pity that the professors chose this year to throw this inter-house unity thing at us. As if we don't have enough going on. I'm not too worried though. I've actually taken up an extra few classes to broaden my future. I plan to receive at least nine OWLs, but of course, I'll aim for them all._

_As far as how my housemates are handling the pressure, some are already biting their nails right down to the quicks. Then I know a few who are just too dumb to realize how serious this year is for them. That's not my problem though. And I won't feel bad at all when it finally hits them in the chest. And I'm not even going to bother helping them if they ask me. If they're too stupid to know now, they're not even worth my time later. I suggest you do the same with your friends. Why I bet they probably use you like a carpet. You shouldn't let them do that to you._

_It's bedtime now. I'm tired. Goodnight._

Draco barely got to end the letter before his eyes slid close. He'd had an exhausting day of studying and he needed the sleep.

"What's got your face spitting in two?" Draco demanded as he entered his dorm room the next afternoon, depositing his book bag onto his trunk. Gregory had the stupidest smile on his face.

Gregory abruptly turned from Draco and stuffed his letter into his robes. "Nothing," he mumbled.

"He's got a _girlfriend_!" Vincent teased and started making childish kissing sounds.

"I do not!" Gregory snarled, showing his best mate a fist, threatening to slug him with it, but it didn't stop Vincent in the slightest.

"Knock it off, Crabbe," Draco ordered, not wanting to hear the disgusting sounds he was making. "Is it true then?" He was curious if Gregory really had a girl who was interested in him. It would shock Draco immensely.

Gregory shrugged, hiding his face. "It's just my owlpal, she—"

"Your owlpal is female?" Draco cut him off, mildly surprised over the news. By now, the owlpals had been going on for nearly a month, and he had never mentioned this before.

Gregory nodded.

"Mine is too," Blaise announced, overhearing as he came into the room. "Wouldn't you know it, I actually got myself a Gryffindor."

Draco made a face of horror. "That's terribly unlucky!"

Blaise shrugged. "Perhaps, but she's going to help me earn 100 points for our house, and I've made that fact clear to her. Told her I was Slytherin in my last letter. I'm just _dying_ to read her response to that!"

"Be careful! If she is in our year, she might make you out," Draco warned him.

"I'm being discreet enough," Blaise assured. "Stop your worrying. I can handle myself perfectly fine, you know."

"I've got a bloke," Pansy informed Draco when he saw her next. He was starting to learn that everyone who had signed up for the program had been matched up with the opposite gender. "And I'm afraid to admit it, but I think he's from Hufflepuff. He hasn't said either way, but he's fascinated with the Care of Magical Creatures. _And_ he's afraid of the dark!" She scoffed here. "What a ninny!"

Draco turned his heel suddenly and began making his way to his dorm room.

"Where are you going?!" Pansy called after him, but Draco didn't answer. He had a letter to send off.

He had already received a lengthy response from his owlpal, which included a huge list of books that was recommended for him to see about reading for the OWLs. Half of the titles Draco hadn't read before, and he made a mental note to go borrow them from the library when he got done reading the ones that he already had.

This letter was going to be straight to the point. He had a question, and he wanted an immediate answer.

_Dear Owlpal,_

_I know you're deeply concentrating on the OWLs right now, and I haven't gotten around to making a proper response to your last letter, (thank you for the book list though) but this is quite urgent. I need to know, are you a female? I'm a male._

On Saturday, Draco stretched out slowly, preparing his body for that day's Quidditch match. He wasn't nervous, knowing Weasley was going to fudge up terribly today, but his captain still gave the usual no-nonsense pep talk that he did with every game.

Vincent and Gregory watched Draco's closely as he stretched, mimicking him as best as they could. They had suddenly been given the Beater positions since the previous ones dropped off the team at the last minute.

"I'm nervous," Vincent whispered worriedly. "What if I foul up?"

"Oh quit your worrying," Draco waved him off. "All you have to do is smack people in the head— you like doing that, remember? I'm the one who has to do all the work, the rest of you just give the spectators something to watch."

"I don't want to do this," Gregory mumbled.

"It's just for this _one_ game," Draco promised his friends. "You're going to do _fine_. Relax. Think about how our little song is going to affect the Gryffindors today."

Draco smirked at the surprise that he had in store for the Gryffindors. His little song was going to drive them completely _mad_.

Sadly, the song was not enough to distract Potter from getting the Snitch. Although, Vincent did get one final blow in, hurling the Bludger at Potter's head just as the game ended, so that mildly lifted up Draco's spirits.

Draco knew how to ruin their win though. He stood back at a safe distance as Potter stood up, clutching his head from where Vincent's bludger had conked him.

"Saved Weasley's neck, haven't you? I've never seen a worse Keeper, but then he was born in a bin. Did you like my lyrics, Potter?"

Potter ignored him and turned to celebrate his victory. Draco watched as Weasel-bee dismounted his broom with a slump to his shoulders. He snickered knowing his song had greatly struck a nerve with the redhead.

"We wanted to write another couple of verses!" Malfoy called out with a raised voice ensuring that the Gryffindors could hear him. "But we couldn't find rhymes for fat and ugly— we wanted to sing about his mother, see. We couldn't fit in useless loser either— for his father, you know. But you like the Weasleys, don't you, Potter?" Draco sneered, noticing that the other Gryffindors were now hearing his exact words over the commotion. The Weasley twins were having to be held back by their teammates to keep from attacking Draco. "Spend a lot of time over there, do you, Potter? It must remind you of your mother's house, I'd imagine. We all know where _she_ came from, bet the Weasley pigsty just _reeks_ of her Mudblood scent—"

All in one motion, Draco found himself being knocked to the ground with one of the twins on top on him, and Potter was at his side, doing a number to his stomach. A commotion broke out around them as Draco bunched up as best as he could to protect his body. Girls were screaming, the twin was yelling out obscenities, and a whistle rang throughout the pandemonium. None of that stopped the boys from pounding on Draco though. He had said a little too much.

Finally, Potter and the one Weasley twin were thrown off Draco with a spell and severely scolded by Madam Hooch.

Draco whimpered in pain, unwilling himself to move from his place, fearing the agony would intensify. His nose was bleeding a second time that year, and Draco was sure his ribs were broken. His entire body ached with forming bruises. He supposed he deserved it, but it'd be worth it if the offending Gryffindors got banned from playing.

Vincent was stuck in a series of laughter, finding the whole thing amusing.

"Ow!" Draco hollered out when Madam Hooch helped him up. "That hurts, damnit!"

She sighed disapprovingly. "You know, Mr Malfoy, it won't be long before you'll be graduating, and once you leave the grounds of Hogwarts, no one is going to come to your aid."

Draco scowled as she led him away to the Infirmary so that the mediwitch could tend to his wounds.

"Getting a lot of bloody noses lately, Mr Malfoy," Pomfrey noted simply. She handed him a bottle of salve to rub on his bruises. "What happened this time?"

"Got jumped by Potter and one of the Weasley twins," Draco muttered, wincing as he rubbed the salve deep into his side. Maybe he ought to reconsider his strategy next time, this was for the pits.

"Here," Pomfrey held out a potion for his broken ribs. "How's the House Unity Program going for you?"

Draco rolled his eyes at her attempt of casual conversation. You'd think her day would be busier given that a Quidditch match had just ended, but sadly not, he was the only patient at the moment.

He shuddered at the foul taste of the potion, handing her back the empty vial. "I probably could do better," he admitted.

"Especially with you being a Prefect, hmm?"

Draco scoffed. He knew why he had been given the title. They hoped that it would encourage him to participate in the inter-house unity. They knew that if he would, the other Slytherins would follow. They knew that he was a leader, and they needed him to lead.

Even if Blaise was highly more qualified for keeping peace amoung their peers.

"Is he free to leave?"

Draco braced himself when he heard the slow, dark drawl of his head-of-house.

"Yes, he's all back in top shape," Pomfrey informed Snape. She gave Draco a sympathetic look, somewhat knowing what was about to transpire between the two.

"Aren't you a little old for these petty games, Draco?" Professor Shape chastised him as soon as they were alone in his office.

"I was peeved off," Draco explained quietly. He hated when Snape scolded him. Snape would likely tell his father what had just transpired too. "I nearly had that Snitch!"

"And your silly, little song? Was that at all necessary?"

"Weasley was only picked because he was Potter's friend!"

"Did you try out for the position then?"

Draco shook his head, scoffing. "Why would I try out to be on Gryffindor's team?!"

"You seem so concerned about who the captain chose and why. I don't see how it's any of your business unless you were a part of the decision making," Snape smoothly replied.

Draco saw his point. Why should it matter if Weasley was Gryffindor's Keeper?

"We both know why you did it. In the same time that you spent writing that ridiculous song, you could have done something actually useful. I am severely disappointed with your immaturity today, Draco. What an absolute waste of your time. I thought you were better than that."

Draco's eyes drifted to the floor. "You're right, sir," he agreed softly, suddenly feeling ashamed of his behaviour. Here he was in his fifth year of schooling, getting ready for his OWLs and he was still acting like a First year.

"Of course I am. Now then, have a seat there." He pointed to a chair near Draco.

Draco refrained from sighing in annoyance, knowing Snape would add an extra two-hundred lines if he at all expressed his thoughts on the upcoming punishment.

" _I need to stop being an immature prat and focus on more propitious activities_ ," Professor Shape supplied the line that Draco was to write 1000 times over.

*/*

"Okay, not that he doesn't deserve it and that I haven't resorted to physical violence against Malfoy myself, but honestly, Harry, two against one?" Hermione gave Harry a look of disapproval. "And George definitely outweighs the prat on his own. Sounds like a very uneven fight, if you ask me."

"We sort of just lost control," Harry confessed, slumping his shoulders. "If you had heard him, Hermione…" He sighed, trailing off.

"Oh I know quite well how hurtful his words are! You're just lucky that McGonagall didn't remove you from the team!"

Harry nodded. But he looked sick to his stomach. "She's going to owl my parents."

Hermione thinned her lips. The Potters were quite strict with Harry. He might end up removed from the team after they heard what he had done. They didn't stand for fighting in the slightest. Even if it was against the Slytherins.

"Well, good luck," she bid him, looking toward the sound of the Fat Lady's portrait creaking open. Ron stepped in, his eyes were stuck to the floor.

"Where have you been?" Hermione wondered, only now noticing that he hadn't been around since the game had ended.

"I shouldn't have even tried out for the bloody team," he answered quietly.

"Well, that's about rubbish," Harry said. "Don't feel bad cause you had a rough first game."

"I can't play for squat!"

"Sure you can!" Hermione spoke up encouragingly. "You just need to practice ignoring Malfoy more."

Harry nudged her gently, smiling. "Just like you do with him?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "I'm working on that myself," she muttered. "Anyway," she turned to Ron, "don't worry about it, Ronald. Practice more, and you'll get better at the game."

Ron nodded slowly. "So," a grin etched to his lips, "Did you and George _really_ give Malfoy a pounding?" he asked Harry.

Harry put his head into his heads. "Yes. It's not something I'm proud of though."

"Would have been nice to see," Ron said wistfully.

"Then it might have even been three against one," Hermione huffed, knowing Ron would have likely jumped in.

"Maybe now he'll think twice than to make fun of people's mums," Harry said. "Definitely a low blow."

"Sure he will," Ron muttered sarcastically. "And I'll win the next lottery!"

Hermione had forgotten to check the owlpal box that night, and the next morning, she had woken up with a start, realizing it. She hopped out of bed and scurried down to the common room to retrieve her letter. Her eyebrows furrowed, realizing that it was incredibly short, and when she read it over, she didn't quite understand why it was urgent for her owlpal (who she now knew was a male) to know if she was a female.

She wrote a quick reply to the short one, stating that she was a female and stuffed the sealed envelope into the box.

"Something wrong?" Ginny wondered, approaching her, noticing her thoughtful frown.

"It's Sunday," Hermione said. "Why aren't you sleeping?"

Ginny grinned. "I'm hoping for a reply from my owlpal today. So?" she questioned Hermione.

"My owlpal asked me if I was male or female."

"Why does that puzzle you?"

"He said it was urgent for him to know."

Ginny's eyebrows lifted. "He's a he, hmm?"

Hermione planted her hands onto her hips. "And just what are you implying?!"

Ginny shrugged. "He sounds smart enough to make a perfect match for you."

"Well, he _was_ matched perfectly to me," Hermione pointed out. "For the program."

Ginny laughed. "I _meant_ for dating, Hermione!"

"Dating?!" Hermione shrieked, finding the idea preposterous. "I don't have _time_ for _dating_ , Ginny!"

Ginny tilted her head. "Well, I can't wait to meet my owlpal! If he's up for it, I'm hoping to take him to Hogsmead for a Butterbeer!"

A thought suddenly occurred to Hermione, and she hurried back to her dorm to get dressed. She had to speak with McGonagall as soon as she could.

"Yes, Miss Granger?" the headmistress permitted Hermione entry to her office, offering her a seat. "What is on your mind?"

Hermione inhaled a breath. She really didn't want to jump to conclusions, but nothing else made sense. It couldn't have been a coincidence that everyone ended up with an owlpal who was opposite to their gender.

"Is there something more to the Owlpal Program than what we were originally told?"

Ever so slightly, Professor McGonagall turned her neck, giving Hermione a curious look. "Such as?" she cautiously asked.

"It has recently occurred to me that we've been paired off with genders opposite to ours."

The elder witch folded her hands onto the top of her desk. "Is that a problem?"

"It cannot have been a coincidence that out of every participant not _one_ has an owlpal who is of the same gender?"

"Perhaps it was. The matching process was strictly done by magic alone through the use of a pairing charm. Your professors did not handle the processing manually if that's you're thinking."

Hermione tucked her bottom lip into her mouth, thinking. "Professor," she said softly. "I can't help believing that we've been paired off as…" Hermione swallowed hard, slightly disturbed with the thought. "As _compatible_ couples."

"Well, Miss Granger, even if that was true, it's not like you'd be forced to date your owlpal once his identity is revealed. Although, if what you believe _is_ correct, it probably wouldn't be a terrible idea— should the two of you have any sort of chemistry, mind you."

"I'm too busy for that kind of thing," Hermione instantly rejected the idea, thinking about the OWLs that she was still unprepared for.

"Yes, of course. You've got your studies. You're a wonderful student, Miss Granger, but you have personal needs too, so please do not neglect those either."

Hermione nodded. Once she graduated, she'd take her time with dating, but her education was far more important than that at the moment. A boyfriend would surely cause a distraction.

"Has your mind been set at ease now, dear?"

"Yes," Hermione breathed out, grateful that her professors hadn't been pairing off students in secret. "Thanks, professor."

"Anytime, Miss Granger."

Sunday was a quieter day since there were hardly any activities scheduled and obviously no classes. Typically, most of the students used this day to sleep the day away, but Hermione used it for studying. So she went back up to her dorm to finish the Astronomy book that she was in the middle of. If she finished it today, she could return her stack of books and borrow some different ones.

"Ron is down in the common room, whining, Hermione," Fay Dunbar announced. "He's pleaded me to come up and fetch you."

Hermione was pulled from her read, slightly annoyed that she was being interrupted. She didn't show this feeling to Fay, knowing that her housemate was only giving her a message, but it was like Ron didn't even care that Hermione could actually be busy with something.

 _I suggest you do the same with your friends,_ Hermione's owlpal had written to her after explaining that he wouldn't help his slacker friends.

_Why I bet they probably use you like a carpet. You shouldn't let them do that to you._

Hermione sighed. She knew Ron had waited until the last minute to complete his Transfigurations assignment. He wanted her to go down and help him.

They _did_ use her like a carpet, Hermione suddenly realized. How it had not occurred to her until right then, she didn't know. It was peculiar how her owlpal, who she had never met was able to sense this with just one paragraph of her mentioning it.

But then, of course, it sounded like he'd go through the same thing if he would allow it.

It appeared that Hermione and her owlpal had a lot more in common than just their favourite things. Their peers _incredibly_ relied on them for their help.

"Thank you," she told Fay, closing up the book. She made her way down the staircase and reluctantly crossed the room to where Ron and Harry were seated.

"So, what don't you understand now?" she asked Ron, exasperated with having to spend the next hour to help her friend, who honestly would never realize how substantial she really was to him and his education.


	6. Six

Draco stalked down the hall with an objective on his mind. He had just received an answer to his question from his owlpal, and now he needed an answer from another person.

He stopped outside a door, knocking on it.

"Come in," a slow, dark drawl permitted his entry. "Draco." Professor Shape barely lifted his eyes up from the paper that he was scoring.

"Why have you matched us up with the other gender?" Draco instantly asked. 

Snape lifted his head up at Draco's accusing tone, abandoning his work. "Excuse me?" he demanded sharply, raising an eyebrow. "I suggest you change your tone with me."

Draco stopped himself from rolling his eyes, calmly, he explained, "My owlpal is a girl, Goyle's is a girl, Zabini has a girl owlpal, and so does Crabbe, Pansy's is a guy— are there  _ any _ participants who have an owlpal of the same gender, or are you professors trying to play matchmakers?"

" _ Matchmaker _ ?" Snape protested venomously as if it was the most hideous thing to cross his mind. "Do you honestly think I would resort to such a thing, Draco?"

Draco stirred in his seat. "Well, no, not exactly you, but perhaps the others drew you in somehow."

"No," the wizard denied, returning to his work. "I can see how suspicious that would look to you, but we used a pairing charm on your entries. You were matched specifically on your interests alone."

"Then why is it that we have been paired like this? It can't be by accident."

"Draco, sometimes magic has a mind of its own. Until it gives you an actual reason to think that it has found your mate for life, I wouldn't stress over it."

"This girl isn't Slytherin," Draco pointed out.

"Well, that is the point of the owlpal program, yes."

"So she can't be my mate."

Snape sighed. "Draco, if you really believe that not one person in your bloodline married outside of Slytherin, then there's no hope for you."

"Well, I don't want to marry anyone outside of Slytherin."

"Do you have a Slytherin currently in mind that you would like to wed in your future?"

Draco made a face. "No!" he said, horrified as he thought of each of the girls in his house. Granted, there were many he hadn’t even socialized with, but he had yet to have one that made his heart stop at just the sight of her. Pansy had kissed him once, but he hadn't felt any sort of  _ love _ from the gesture.

Snape tilted his head, suggestively. "Then, perhaps, this owlpal of yours could be the absolute love-of-your-life."

Draco couldn't tell if he was joking or not. He could never tell with Snape since the man had an incredibly dark, dry sense of humour.

As a Prefect, Draco had to patrol at least two nights a week for one hour. Since the school was promoting house unity, Draco had to patrol with someone outside of Slytherin. He didn't mind this much, if it were someone from Ravenclaw, but neither Macmillan or Abbott would be quiet enough to actually patrol— they were supposed to be sneaking up on curfew-breakers after all, and the Gryffindors always lead to some sort of hexing match— or like the last time, a broken nose.

Draco was going to  _ try _ to get through one night without it ending in some sort of commotion. After his talk with Snape, it had really hit him that adulthood was just around the corner, and he needed to take things a little more seriously. The idiotic, immature fighting would need to cease eventually. He couldn't continue pressing the buttons of Gryffindors after school. He'd probably lose.

At least if they ganged up on him.

Or if he got in a fight with a certain, bushy-haired one. Yes, that would also be a losing battle, indeed.

Tonight, he was supposed to be patrolling with Ron Weasley. He was not looking forward to it. Draco had been able to avoid the Gryffindors of his own year for the past day and a half. He knew he would have to cross paths them at some point though, and the subject of getting ganged up on by their fellow members would come up.

He would find it hard to act maturely if he was being teased. Draco promised himself to try to keep his cool, but he didn't have high spirits if he and Ron Weasley were going to be near each other.

Draco stood patiently at the staircase between the third and fourth level. They'd be patrolling the two floors that night. Draco was going to suggest that they each took a floor to avoid conflict. He thought it was a swell idea. Knowing the Weasel though, he'd be against it just because it wasn't his own idea.

He quietly sighed when he heard footsteps approaching. He figured Weasley was probably dreading this too. Draco cursed whoever came up with this unity rubbish. Pansy would be much more fun to patrol with.

"Malfoy."

The voice was far too feminine to be Weasley's. She sounded exceedingly annoyed too.

"Granger," he forced himself to return plainly. Deep down, he felt a small hint of pain. It sort of upset him that the only one who didn't mind patrolling with him was Pansy.

Of course, his inner mind argued that he had something to do with that. 

_ They weren't innocent either _ , he reminded himself. Since day one, they had always thought Draco was up to no good, simply because he was a  _ Slytherin _ .

"Ronald couldn't make it," Granger informed with a huff. " _ Apparently _ , he  _ forgot _ about his Astronomy assignment." She then muttered something under her breath. Draco barely caught the words, "bloody carpet".

"I apologize for being a terrible ending to your day," he replied, somewhat sarcastic.

"Right, well, it's not your fault that Ronald can't juggle his workload," Granger grumbled, making Draco smirk a little. "So let's get this over with okay? I'm incredibly exhausted, and honestly, I'd rather not fight with you tonight. So if you don't mind, can we just pretend that we're not rivalries for one, ruddy night?"

Draco found it intriguing that Granger actually wanted the exact same thing that he did. He didn't let her know that though.

"I'm alright with that," he acknowledged simply.

Granger cautiously tilted her head, having not expected him to agree with her, but she started up the stairs just the same.

"Do you want to patrol one floor and I'll patrol the other?"

"You're giving me the option?" she asked in mild surprise.

"It doesn't quite matter to me which floor I patrol. I just thought it'd be better to separate."

She nodded. "Alright. I'll continue up if you want to go down."

"Meet back here in twenty minutes?"

"Sure."

Draco silently watched her climb the stairs until she disappeared at the top of the floor. He thought it was strange. That had been his first cordial exchange with Granger,  _ ever _ .

_ Keep your distance _ , Draco reminded himself the next morning. He saw Potter, Weasley and Granger walking toward him, on their way to Potions just as he was.

"Did you finally learn to not run your mouth, Malfoy? My brother messed you up good, did he?!"

Draco stopped abruptly in his steps. Pansy, who was walking with him sent him a look. He closed his eyes, telling himself to ignore the Weasel-bee.

"Why didn't you say anything back," Pansy wondered when Draco started walking again.

"Because he's just not worth my time."

Pansy gave him a confused look. "Are you afraid you'll get beat up again?" She knew Draco wasn't ordinary bothered with being ganged up on, much as he pretended to be a whimpering fool, he wasn't.

"Course not," he snapped, offended that she would even ask that.

"Then what is it?" she demanded, irritated with his tone.

"I'm…  _ trying _ to act more mature."

"All of a sudden?" Pansy inquired suspiciously.

"And what of it?"

She smiled. "I think you've learned something from that attack."

"Well, sure," Draco agreed, taking a seat in the Potions Dungeon, far away from any Gryffindor. "I can't act like a wanker all my life, can I?" 

Pansy snorted. "A  _ wanker _ ? Really Draco, you're not  _ that _ bad."

"To you, maybe not, but I could probably be a little more...  _ nicer _ to others, specifically to those outside of Slytherin."

"Well," Pansy scratched at her head, slightly uneasy. "If we're going to be honest, I must admit, my owlpal sounds kind of fun. I almost don't  _ want _ to know who he is, because you know what he's going to think of  _ me  _ when he finds out who I am."

Draco could definitely relate. Once his owlpal learned who he was, what was she going to do? She would probably not want anything to do with him.

He uncomfortably stirred in his seat, suddenly dreading the party that would reveal who he really was. Draco quickly dismissed the thought, putting his sole attention on Professor Snape as he started his lecture.

When the class was over, the students raced out of there. Half of them couldn't stand being around the teacher, while the other half was afraid to be late to their next class.

Draco pushed through the bodies, trying to get to Transfigurations before it started. McGonagall would not accept any excuses for being late.

He stopped in his steps when he had seen a piece of parchment on the stone flooring, getting kicked around by the group. He took his wand and picked it up, hovering it over to him. He wasn't one to like litter. Draco was once given detention to pick up trash—without the use of his wand!— and he couldn't believe how disgusting and careless people were.

He straightened the paper out to read, making sure that it wasn't someone's assignment or anything important like that. What he read made his breath hitch a bit. He looked up, noticing that the group had now disappeared. The corridor was now empty.

_ Dear Owlpal _

_ I too have been so swamped with the OWLs. I don't really understand why I feel the need to study as much as I do, I know I'll do well; I absorb information like a sponge does water.  _

_ I suppose I'm just worried. I don't want my friends knowing this, but I'm not stupid, this year is incredibly important. If I don't do exceedingly well, I might end up having to farm sheep! Well, perhaps not exactly that, but I'm sure you know what I mean. _

_ And that's before the shame I'll bring onto my parents if I don't score well. Since the day I was born, they have expected me to be the best. I have given my all, but my best isn't enough. It sounds like you're going through the same as me though. And I know we'll meet one day, but for now, this anonymity is quite nice to have.  _

_ Do we even have to meet? Can't we just let this go on forever? You can't deny that the idea of writing to some unknown person is thrilling. I already know how exciting this program is for you. You signed up for fun, for Merlin's sake! I bet you're the only one in the entire school to have done that! _

_ Let me know what you think because if you want, we could continue this for as long as you wish. We'd never have to know each other’s identity. Ever. _

_ Also, do you have any recommendations for books on Astronomy? I'm fascinated with the solar system, I can't get enough. I know you're well-read, and maybe you've read something that I've missed. _

"Draco?" 

Draco quickly tucked the parchment into his robes. "I was just picking up litter, sir!" he hastily explained himself to Snape who stood in the doorway of the Potions Dungeon with narrow eyes.

"Off you go to Transfigurations," Snape directed before he whirled around and disappeared back into the classroom.

Draco resumed his steps, too numb to even know half of what he was doing. He didn't even know what McGonagall had taught the class that day.

He should be angry, but he wasn't. Why wasn't he upset that he had just learned who his owlpal was? Why was he only wishing that he had just left that bloody parchment alone? 

He now had a choice to make. Was he going to continue as if nothing had happened? Or was he going to ignore her future letters altogether? The rules stated that he could do either option (preferring that he did the former, of course), but Draco didn't know what to do. It was upsetting that he was now out 200 points, and the Slytherin inside him told him that he ought to march straight up to Granger and reveal who he was. Draco didn't want to do that though, and he didn't exactly know why.

Bloody Granger! He  _ really _ would have preferred to never have known that Granger was his owlpal. 

*/*

"What's got you in a frenzy?" Harry asked. He snatched a piece of parchment that fluttered from out of a book. He and Ron helped Hermione manage her things as she dug through her book bag in a reckless mess.

"I lost the letter!" she wailed, near tears. "It's not here! I must have dropped it somewhere between here and the Potions Dungeon!" Then she gasped in sudden fear. "Oh, what if he finds it?! What if he  _ knows _ it's  _ me _ ?!"

"What letter?" Ron asked.

"My owlpal's!"

"Hermione, the odds of him finding his own letter are like one in a thousand," Harry pointed out as they continued their long walk to the Charms classroom. "Let alone knowing it was  _ you _ who dropped it."

"And besides, if he finds out it is you, then that means his house loses 200 points, which is good for us!"

"That's not the point of the program, and you know it!" Hermione scolded Ron.

Ron rolled his eyes. "Hermione, you're too sensitive! I was just trying to look on the brighter side of the situation. Sheesh! Don't take it out on  _ me _ because you got careless for the first time in your  _ life _ ."

Hermione was fighting not to cry. She was so upset with herself right now. She had never been competitive when it came to the house point system. Sure, she was happy when Gryffindor won the House Cup, but winning wasn't everything. The points mattered to her owlpal though. If this caused her owlpal to lose the 200 points that he had been working so hard for, she didn't know what she would do. 

She wanted to crawl into a hole and never come out!

In her dorm that night, she decided it would be best to inform her owlpal of her mistake. That way, he was at least advised not to go picking up loose pieces of parchment.

_ Dear Owlpal, _

_ I regret to inform you that I did something completely reckless today. I used your letter to mark a book I was reading in a hurry, and it fell out sometime during classes. I looked all over and retraced my steps, but I never did find it! _

_ I do hope that my identity remains unknown to you. I would feel awfully terrible if you failed this exercise just because of me. I know this was incredibly important to you, and I deeply apologize. If you DID find the letter, I would understand if you never wanted to write to me again, but if you haven't yet, I thought you should know to stray from any lone pieces of parchment. I would hate for you to lose the 200 points. _

_ Your Owlpal _

"Here, Hermione," Padma Patil held out a worn-out looking piece of parchment at breakfast a couple of days later.

"My letter!" Hermione shrieked out in relief. "You found it! Thank you!"

"Well, actually, some First year found it. I got it from my sister who said one of the Ravenclaw First years gave it to her after it had been given to him. Apparently, someone saw you drop it the other day."

"Well, I'm grateful to have it back!"

"Me too," Ron chimed in. "Now maybe you’ll stop having kittens over it!"

Hermione sent him a look, but he didn't notice, he had his head buried in some rubbish comic book that he was eager to finish.

She reread the letter, trying to decide how she wanted to respond to it. Her owlpal didn't want them to meet, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. She could definitely agree with him. She  _ did _ like their anonymity, but she also wanted to put a face on him. Would they get along in person just as they did on paper? 

Of course, this was if he still wanted to write her to begin with.

He was rough around the edges, but she could tell that he had a soft spot to him. A spot he hardly let anyone know about, but it was there, and he had shown  _ her _ . That made her feel a bit special. She really didn't want to lose this new friend.

"Hermione?"

Hermione looked up, hearing Harry's tiny, pathetic plea voice. He looked at her with pitiful eyes.

"What is it this time?" she asked with a sigh, knowing that look all too well; he wanted her to do something for him.

"My mum says I need a NEWT level in Potions in order to be an Auror."

Hermione nodded. This was not news to her. "You want me to help prepare you for the exam, don't you?"

His lips stretched out into a smile of relief. "Maybe you can compile a list of book suggestions? Mum sent me one, but I know you'll have your own list too. Preferably something that speaks more my level?"

"Harry, you're not dumb," Hermione scolded with a roll of her eyes.

"But your reading level is far beyond mine. I need something that's not Greek to me."

"I know just the books," she told him, beaming at the thought of a title that instantly came to her mind. Harry would find it very useful.

"Ronald? Would you also like a book list?"

"Not now, Hermione!" Ron scolded with his nose still stuck in the comic book. "Agatha is about to attack Thorpus with a gruesome curse— oh  _ Merlin _ , you should  _ see _ the blood gushing out of him! He can't live after this, he just  _ can't _ !"

Hermione sighed in complete exasperation. "Fine! Don't come crying to me this weekend when your assignments are nearly due and you didn't care to study for them!"

"You're only mad because your owlpal won't write you," he grumbled. "Don't take it out on me!"

"I'm serious, Ron! If you don't care at all, I don't either. I'm tired of having to drop everything because you're just too lazy!"

"Well, who asked you anyway!" he retorted firmly. "You're worse than my mother, I swear!"

Hermione uprooted from the bench of the Gryffindor table. "And you treat her like rubbish too! You're on your own from now on Ronald Weasley! I'm  _ not _ going to help you!"

"Good, maybe I'll get some peace for a change," he called out as she made to storm off.

It took all of her control not to spat an insult back at him. They had attracted enough of an audience. 

Her face flushed with an embarrassed heat as she escaped the room.

Hermione moped the rest of the night until she checked the owlpal box and found that she had a letter. Her heart picked up with hope. She hurried up to her dormitory to read it in private.

_ Dear Owlpal  _

_ I won't say that I was at all pleased learning that my letter to you was wandering around the halls of Hogwarts, but as I said before, I do enjoy our letters, and I don’t think we should stop our friendship over such a trivial matter. _

_ We ARE friends, right? I would believe so, anyway. We get along alright. On paper at the very least. _

_ So, you never did tell me what you thought of my idea. I know you were overwhelmed at the thought of me losing points because of your mistake. I would like an answer, please. If you need some time to think about it, let me know. _

_ Did you ever find the letter? _

  
  



	7. Seven

"What's wrong with you?"

Draco turned from Gregory who had asked the question, adjusting his pillow so that his neck was supported better. "Nothing," he answered indifferently.

"You're too quiet. I don't like that."

"Well, I don't like that _you're_ too bloody noisy!" Draco retorted. He heard his friend sigh.

"Don't make me send Pansy in here to pull it out of you."

"Or," Draco started suggestingly. "You could just leave me alone."

"Is it the OWLs? Are you worried about the exams? You don't need to be. You're the smartest Fifth-year I know."

"No Gregory, now shut your fat hole!"

Draco heard the springs to Gregory's bed squeak and then footsteps descended out of the room. Draco was relieved by the fact that his friend finally took the hint.

He removed the letter from under his pillow, reading it over. The letter was his, the one he had found. For some reason, even though he was the one who wrote it, he felt the need to reread it. He didn't know why he kept the letter. By now, he knew Granger was a hot, bloody mess over the idea of him losing points. Draco felt it was only right that she stewed on that for a bit.

But he still hadn't decided whether to confront the Gryffindor about it or just simply pretend nothing had happened. On one hand, he didn't really want Granger to know that he was her owlpal, but on the other hand, her careless mistake lost him 200 points, and he felt she too should also lose those same points.

Something kept him from marching up to her and giving her a few words of what he thought about her leaving one of his most private letters laying around. He wasn't sure what it was though. At some point, he thought maybe he was just too chicken to admit that they had similar interests. It was completely embarrassing that he and a Gryffindor of her blood type could get along so well. Sadly, he couldn't deny this, no matter how much he shoved the thought aside into the depths of his mind.

She had also been a tremendous help with the studying for OWLs, suggesting book titles that Draco would have never thought of. He really didn't want that to end as it was extremely useful to his education. If she knew who he was, she would immediately cease all her help.

Even the thought of the Gryffindor house losing points for Granger finding out his identity wasn't enough to make a definite choice on the matter. He was torn between confronting her or keeping her, and it was wearing him down. He knew it, and unfortunately, his friends were now starting to notice it. His professors would be next, and _then_ his parents would be alerted if he continued to act so strangely. Draco certainly didn't need his mother smothering him.

So what was he going to do? He couldn't keep this up. He _had_ to decide, and he had to do it quickly before everyone thought he needed mental help.

"Hi."

Draco rolled his eyes at the sound of Pansy's quiet voice. Curse Gregory and his interfering with Draco's personal problems!

"What?" Draco suppressed a snarl. Why couldn't they just leave him alone?!

"Something is bothering you."

"Yes, well, state the obvious!" he muttered.

"Are you going to make me hex it out of you?"

Draco flipped over to send her a glare. "I'll hex you right back!"

She smiled. "There's your Malfoy flare! I was wondering where it went!" She pushed at his legs, a gesture that told him she wanted to sit at the edge of his bed. Draco huffed his opinion on that, but he complied, giving her room to do so.

"So? What's your story?"

"I _really_ don't feel like talking about this," he told her.

"It can't be _that_ embarrassing."

"How do you know it has anything at all to do with embarrassment?"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Draco, I've known you before we could even _talk_ , it has everything to do with embarrassment with you! You're _such_ a drama king!"

Draco sat up. He let out a deep sigh and held out his letter so that she could take it.

"This…?" Pansy asked in confusion after reading it over. "You wrote this. So?"

"My owlpal is a Gryffindor," he announced grimly. "She dropped it this morning in Potions, and I… picked it up…"

Pansy nodded slowly, and after a moment her eyes began to shine. "I understand now…"

"Do you?" Draco wondered doubtfully. He buried his hands into his face. "No. You don't understand at all. If you did, you'd be laughing at me."

"It _is_ Granger, isn't it?"

Draco hands dropped into his lap. "How would you even know that?"

"Oh, Draco, don't patronize me." She handed him back the letter. "It's highly _insulting_!"

"I have no idea what you're talking about!" he snapped.

Pansy tilted her head, and with a slit to her eyes, she smirked. "You _really_ don't know, do you? After all this time?"

Draco shook his head. "Care to explain to me what the bloody hell you're even talking about?!"

"You fancy Granger," Pansy said amusingly. "And you're just now realizing it!" She burst out into giggles. "Here, I just thought you were trying to hide it!"

Draco shot out of bed. "I do not!" he bellowed out in protest. "There is no absolute way I would fall for someone like… like _her_!"

"Are we talking about Granger again?" Blaise asked, slipping into the room.

"Pansy seems to think I fancy _Granger_!" Draco announced with a shudder.

Blaise and Pansy exchanged looks, and the corner of Blaise's mouth twitched. "Don't you?"

"No!" Draco snarled. "I _just_ said that!"

Pansy crossed her arms over her chest. "Then why haven't you told Granger that you're her owlpal— why haven't you made Gryffindor lose points when you've been given the opportunity to do so?"

Draco couldn't come up with a good excuse. He closed his mouth, swallowing hard. "I— I don't _fancy_ her!" he repeated. His voice was gone now, only slightly above a whisper.

Blaise finally allowed himself to grin. "Keep saying it, mate. Maybe if you say it enough, it might actually come true."

Draco didn't sleep much that night. What his friends had said bothered him. They thought he was obsessed with Granger, but he didn't think so.

 _Then why haven't you told Granger that you're her owlpal?_ Pansy's question repeated in his mind.

Draco didn't like Granger. He refused to believe that. And even if he _did_ , why were his friends okay with it? Granger was not acceptable blood, and she was a bloody Gryffindor. He was sure there was some law that kept Gryffindors and Slytherins from being anything more than enemies.

But this year _could_ be different. With the whole House Unity rubbish, it could be the start of something different. Something new. Something that he wouldn't mind exploring… _Maybe_ …?

No, he was crazy! He was absolutely crazy!

Wasn't he?

He didn't like her…!

Or did he...?

If he didn't like her, why was he continuously _thinking_ about her?! Why hadn't he made her lose points? She certainly deserved to!

He tossed and turned in bed, finally waking up Gregory. "Would you just lay still!" the bigger boy grumbled.

Draco finally kicked the blanket off him and sat up at the side of his bed. He ran a hand through his tangled hair.

_Damn you, Granger!_

If he wasn't going to sleep, he may as well go down to the common room and study. He grabbed his books and headed out of the room.

"Draco!" Someone had a hold of his shoulder and was shaking him awake. Apparently, he had fallen asleep sometime in the night.

"Get off!" he muttered at Vincent who was the one giving him potential whip-lash. Draco rotated his neck, wincing at a pinched nerve from sleeping in an odd angle.

"Well?" Blaise asked of him. He had his hands on his hips.

Draco closed up the books that he had been reading hours before and stacked them up into a pile. "Well, what?"

"What are you going to do about your… bushy, little _problem_?"

Draco stood up and started bagging up his books. "What can I do—" he lowered his voice. "It's not like she'll be friends with me!"

Blaise shrugged. "She might. She takes the House Unity quite seriously."

"I have been harassing her since the day we met. We get under each other's skin too easily."

"Sounds like you get along well in your letters," Blaise pointed out.

Draco grunted. "That's because she doesn't know it's _me_!"

"Do you like writing to her?"

"Yeah," he admitted after a thought.

"And do you like receiving her letters?"

Draco nodded slowly.

"Then don't tell her who you are," Blaise suggested like it was the most obvious choice.

Draco narrowed his eyes slightly. "Shouldn't you be upset that I…"

He refused to say that he liked her. He wasn't going to say it. He _couldn't_ say it.

"Well… why aren't you upset with… _this_?"

"You're my friend, Draco, if that bushy-haired, know-it-all makes your heart flutter, what does it matter to me?"

"And Pansy? She thinks the same?"

Blaise laughed. He draped an arm over Draco's shoulder. "Pansy will follow you over a cliff if you lead her there."

Draco finally decided it then. With his friends' support, he'd continue on with the owlpals and wait to see if Granger wanted to keep the anonymity between them or if she wanted to meet instead.

That day, Draco had arranged to have his letter sent back to Granger by paying a First-year Slytherin to give it to a Ravenclaw in her own year, specifying stating that someone else had seen Hermione Granger drop it, and it needed to go back to her. The First-year didn't question him whatsoever, having little care in the world than the ten galleons Draco had offered her.

It took Granger nearly a week to decide on whether she wanted to meet him after the program was over or not.

_Dear Owlpal_

_I've thoroughly given your proposition a thought. I really quite like what we've got going on here, but I'm afraid the curiosity may end up driving me mad. I think it would be best if we did meet. I'm going to be completely honest with you, I can only hold on to suspense for so long before I MUST know the details. So, I do apologize if this is not what you wanted to hear._

— _Your Owlpal_

Draco set the letter down.

Well, that's just _lovely_ , Draco thought bitterly. Once she knew it was he who she had been writing to, this whole thing would be over. And he didn't want it to be over.

Up in the library, Draco found himself staring at Granger who was surrounded by her typical wall of books. Granger skimmed over one book to another, seemingly looking for something specific.

Granger didn't know he was watching her. He kept telling himself that he should stop this unhealthy activity and just find the book he needed, but he wanted to go up to her. He wanted to sit down next to her and ask her what she was looking for. He wanted to help Granger with her research.

Draco just didn't have the guts to do it. He didn't know _where_ to even begin. And even if he did, she would immediately reject his presence. Draco wouldn't blame her a bit though. He had not been exactly friendly with her all these years.

His eyes widened as she got up and walked toward the shelf that he had been using to conceal himself behind. He backed up and frantically spun around, snatching a random book off the shelf to busy himself with.

His ears picked up on her footsteps which slowed when she noticed his presence.

"Malfoy?" she questioned, surprised to see him.

He looked up, unsure of how he should greet her, but he quickly came to his senses, giving her a single nod. "Granger," Draco acknowledged indifferently.

A tiny smile crept to Granger's lips, and she raised her eyebrows. Her gaze dropped to the book that he was holding. "Are you—" She stopped herself from continuing, shaking her head. "Never mind, I don't want to know." And he watched her turn around on her heel, marching back to the table. Her hair bounced with each step that she took.

He sighed, inwardly cursing himself for acting like such a git. He put the book back into its spot, catching sight of the title.

_My Life as a Muggle_

Draco pressed a palm to his forehead. No wonder Granger had looked so amused! How she had stopped herself from laughing, he'd never know.

He made a quick exit, having had spent enough time trying to come up with a way to talk to her.

*/*

"You'll never guess what I saw today!" Hermione said as she sat down at the Gryffindor table for dinner. "Malfoy was in the _Muggle_ section of the library!"

"You're kidding!" Harry gasped while Ron's jaw dropped, showing a mess of food that he had been the previous chewing on.

"Ugh, disgusting!" Lavender shuddered when she had seen what Ron had done.

"What would _Malfoy_ be doing in the Muggle section of the library?" Ron asked after he had managed to swallow his food.

"I'm not sure, but you should have seen the look on his face when I caught him. He couldn't even say anything. I found it amusing."

"What'd you say to him?" Harry asked.

"Well, I went to ask him about the book he was holding— _My Life as a Muggle_ —" Hermione giggled. "It's so hard to believe he'd even touch a book written by a Muggle! Anyway, I decided that I'd just leave him be. He got out of there quickly after that."

"Wonder what his intentions were with it," Harry thought on it.

"Knowing Malfoy, probably not good ones," Ron added.

"He's in Muggle Studies this year," Timothy Craft announced from his spot next to Ginny. The two were in the same year and had gone to Hogsmeade a couple of times together.

"How would you know this?" Ginny asked him.

"Anthony told me," he answered, speaking about his older brother in Ravenclaw. "They are in the same class."

Several of the surrounding Gryffindors exchanged surprised looks.

"Doesn't sound like Draco Malfoy to me at all," Ginny voiced what everyone else was thinking.

"Suppose his parents found out?" Fay Dunbar wondered. "You think he'd be punished for it?"

"Probably," Ron muttered.

Harry turned around so that he could look over at Malfoy. The rest of the Gryffindors followed suit. The Slytherin was hunched over a book.

"Ever since you and Fred beat him into sludge, he's been… what's the word…? Not exactly decent, but…?"

"Tolerable," Harry filled in for Ron, furrowing his eyebrows. He still felt a bit guilty about attacking Malfoy the way he had. He had gotten a severe verbal lashing from each of his parents over that. He had not gotten kicked off the team, but that was his only warning.

"Yeah," Hermione agreed, just now noticing that they were right. "In fact, Malfoy hasn't made fun of me once since that attack. And I can't remember the last time he's called me a Mudblood either!"

Timothy cringed at the word. If it were at all possible, he hated it more the Hermione did, and he wasn't even a Muggleborn.

"Maybe the beating was a good thing after all." Ron shrugged.

Harry turned back around and looked at his plate of unfinished food. "Don't tell anyone about this," he requested of the table. The others looked at him in confusion. "Malfoy shouldn't be punished for taking a class. Let him be if he wants to take Muggle Studies, perhaps it'll change his opinion about them."

Ron snorted in doubt, but he promised Harry he wouldn't say anything, as did the rest of Gryffindors.

_Dear Owlpal,_

_This will be my last letter to you as your owlpal— and probably for the rest of our lives after we meet._

_The days have passed by quicker than I would prefer. The Union Party is approaching, and I'm nervous about it. I know you seem alright with me now, but I'm fearing that your opinion of me will change. I don't want our friendship to end, but I must face the inevitable. Once we meet, this friendship that we have made will fade into the night, never to be seen again._

_I'm sure you think differently at the moment. Just wait though. You'll see for yourself and change your mind when you see my face._

_I want to say that I'm sorry now. For everything in the past, present and future. I deeply wish I could go back in time and change my life, but I cannot, so instead, I will accept the path that I have paved._

_I want to thank you for your kindness. I didn't deserve it, but you are a generous person. You need to know that I'm trying to change my ways, and that is mostly because of you._

_Farewell, kind owlpal of mine._

Hermione's eyes narrowed, perplexed by the final letter that she'd receive from her owlpal before the Unity Party the next night. Why would he think that she wouldn't want to be friends after they met? Of course, she'd continue to be his friend! He was smart and gave decent advice, even if he was awfully blunt about how he gave it. Hermione liked that he didn't beat around the bush. If she asked him a question, he would answer her outright.

He was also the only one that she knew who took _her_ knowledge seriously, and not just use it to simply write an essay with it. He _absorbed_ her knowledge. He _wanted_ to learn.

Hermione didn't want to lose her new friend. He was the only one who could relate to her, and she felt that their intellectual minds were perfectly matched. She needed someone like that as a friend. She liked having someone to bounce ideas and theories off of. Her owlpal may not agree with everything she came up with, but he could contribute his own thought on the subjects. He knew what she was even talking about, and Hermione hardly had to explain anything to him.

Hermione wondered why he apologized to her in his letter too. If they hadn't even met, if they didn't know who the other was, why would he apologize to her?

Unfortunately, she didn't have time to write him back to reassure him that she wouldn't end their friendship after they met. Hermione would just prove it to him when the time came.

The Great Hall was decorated with the colours of all the houses. Assorted coloured balloons, candles and streamers floated around the room.

A group of Hufflepuffs in Third year had made a rainbow with arches that would fade in and out with all the different house colours. Hermione adored it, and she hoped it would be a piece of art that Hogwarts would keep around.

Dozens of small tables were sprawled about, and Hermione realized that they had been assigned to specific seats. Each table had eight separate place cards, two students from each house. She searched for hers and found out that she'd be sitting with Blaise Zabini— the only name she recognized at her table outside of the other Gryffindor.

"Hi, Hermione," a quiet voice greeted her.

"Hello, Walter," she returned. He was a Fourth-year Gryffindor. He'd occasionally ask her for help with his assignments.

"Looks like we'll be sitting together tonight," he noted. He was one of the shyer Gryffindors, and after thinking about it, Hermione had never really seen him with a group. He was often by himself.

"Looks like it," she agreed. She frowned when she noticed that Ron had gotten stuck at the same table as Pansy Parkinson had. The redhead wore the biggest scowl as he reluctantly sat down. Parkinson made a face at him, showing that she also wasn't too happy with the seating arrangement.

"Good evening," a Slytherin girl sat down next to Walter where her place card had been set. Amelia Hobbins was her name. Hermione only knew that because of her place card.

"Hello," both Walter and Hermione greeted her back.

"I see you in my Potions class," Amelia said to Walter.

He nodded. "Yep, I'm Walter."

"Nice to finally hear your voice. You don't talk much, do you?"

"Not really, no," he admitted with a shrug.

"Hey, guys. Guess we'll be dining together tonight," a Hufflepuff boy said as he sat down. "Name's Sam. I'm a Third year. Nice to meet you."

Everyone returned his greeting.

"Oh, good, I'm sitting with Megan," he spoke about the Ravenclaw girl that had yet to show up. "She's a _master_ at gobstones!"

Zabini approached the table then. "Assigned seating," he announced indifferently, pulling a chair out. "I guess that makes sense. I'm Blaise Zabini. I'll be your male Slytherin tablemate for this evening."

"Hey, I like the sound of tablemates!" Sam chimed, and he introduced himself to Zabini.

"Anyone know when we get to find out about our owpals?" Zabini looked directly at Hermione, expecting her, out of them all, to know.

Hermione lifted her shoulders. "I don't know yet. I can hardly wait though!"

Zabini's eyes lit up. "Me neither," he said through a chuckle.

"What's got you so tickled?" Hermione asked, tilting her head.

Zabini shifted in his chair, displaying a wicked grin. "I just can't wait until the owlpals are finally revealed. I am sure there's going to be a lot of surprises tonight."

Hermione gave him a look. If she didn't know any better, she'd guess he was up to something. She would give him the benefit of the doubt though. She didn't comment further on the subject.

Snacks were served, and later, the professors had set up games for them to play, competing with the other tables. Hermione's table won first place, earning themselves each a gold ribbon with the words "House Unity 1995" on it.

"Good going, Granger," Zabini commented, as he proudly pinned his ribbon onto his Slytherin tie. She had won them all but one of the games— the game they had lost on was a quiz on Quidditch. She didn't know a whole lot about the sport.

"Good evening, students," Professor McGonagall spoke up a bit later. "If you will take your place card, you'll find that it is actually an envelope, and inside that envelope, is a pendant. You and your owlpals have matching pendants. You are now to find the person who has your matching pendant. Enjoy!"

All at once, everyone dug into their envelopes to get their pendant out. Hermione's pendant was made of silver. It had five charms that were linked together, each representing the five things that she and her owlpal had in common: a book, a cat, the sun (to represent the daytime), a pair of sunglasses (to represent the summer holiday) and a blue-coloured gemstone.

She smiled and held it up to her chest for a moment. She would treasure this item for years to come. It was a lovely souvenir.

The room was busy with students trying to find their owlpals, and Hermione stood up, holding hers out to those who seemed lost and not yet matched. She kept searching and searching, but no one held the same pendant as she.

Nearly half an hour passed before she sat down back at her table. He hadn't come, she realized. Her owlpal had not come to the party. He had never wanted to meet her. He had never the _intention_ to meet her. He didn't _care_ to meet.

Her eyes went out of focus, and she blinked back tears. Hermione knew he hadn't wanted to meet, but he hadn't implied that he would just leave her hanging!

"Oi."

Hermione looked up, shocked that anyone would notice her during the commotion. Everyone was paired up now. Harry had gotten some girl from Hufflepuff. Ron had actually gotten a Slytherin, and to Hermione's surprise, they were _talking_ and not fighting!

Theodore Notts stood across from her, and he stood with Luna Lovegood, apparently, they had been matched up.

"Did he not show up?" the girl asked in her ever-so-soft voice.

Hermione shook her head. She placed a hand to her forehead as a wave of embarrassment flushed through her. She rose up from the table and made a run for the door.

*/*

Draco stared down at the pendant that he had been given. He hadn't spoken much at all that night. The only person he knew at the table that he had been assigned to was Ginny Weasley. She didn't seem too interested in talking directly to him (not that he blamed her, with all the cruel things he had said about her family). Instead, Weasley spent most the night talking with the Hufflepuff girl that had been assigned to their table.

When the tables emptied as the students searched for their owlpals, Draco slipped out of the room. He was too nervous to follow through. His gut stirred. He felt like he needed to hurl.

He stood out in the corridor, gulping in breaths of air in an effort to calm himself.

He paced the hall, back and forth, talking to himself, demanding that he get a grip and face the music. Could he ever do that though? He was never one to face his problems. It was easier to just run away.

He balled up his fists, angered at his cowardliness. Why couldn't he just walk in there and tell her?! It wasn't a hard task to physically do!

He pulled at his hair in frustration.

 _Coward!_ he scolded himself. _You're_ _a bloody coward that's why!_

He heard the door to the Great Hall creak open and he hastily composed himself, stiffening up, facing away, unwilling for anyone to see him in his frantic state.

Then he heard an incredibly faint sob, and he turned his head to see her runoff.

Draco set his jaw. He knew why she was crying. He closed his eyes, pressing the tips of his fingers into them. Merlin, he was a bloody prick!

*/*

Hermione stopped at the second floor to catch her breath. She threw herself into a room and sat down at a desk, crossing her arms over her chest with a huff. She couldn't decide if she was angry with her owlpal or just disappointed, but whatever it was, she was upset!

Something out of the corner of her eye twitched, and she cocked her head to look, catching sight of the pendant that was the twin to her own.

And then she saw who was holding it, and her heart sunk, suddenly understanding exactly why he had been so reluctant with meeting her.

He was staring at her, and for a moment, there was a heavy, uncomfortable silence. She took that moment to wipe a stray tear with a single finger.

Hermione looked away, and she broke the silence, "You were right, I suppose."

"About?" His voice was faint and hoarse.

"That our friendship would end tonight."

Malfoy made no reply. She watched him lift his chin, and he gave her a single nod before he gracefully turned on his heel and silently walked out.

Tears stung her eyes. She told herself that Draco Malfoy was not worth it, but for some reason, she couldn't get herself to believe it.

She was going to deeply miss his letters.

The next afternoon, as Hermione was exiting the girl's laboratory, a hand crashed into her chest, knocking her back inside. Hermione rubbed at the spot, glaring at the person who stood before her.

"Get out," Pansy Parkinson snarled at a First-year Slytherin who made a fast getaway. Then she pointed a finger at Hermione. "You and I are going to have a little talk."

"Honestly, Parkinson, I don't have the time to squabble today, I have to return some—"

"It can wait." Parkinson's tone didn't change. "What did you say to Draco last night?"

Hermione brought her eyebrows together. "I didn't say anything really."

The Slytherin inhaled a slow breath. "My best friend has not left his room all day, and it is because of you, _now what did you say to him_?"

Hermione rolled her eyes. "As if _I_ could do that to him. I'm just a filthy, little _Mudblood_ to him!"

"What _is_ it with you smart people? It's like you lack empathy or something! With all that intelligence in your head, how can you be so _blind_?!"

Hermione blinked, slightly insulted, but it wasn't like Parkinson had never said anything hateful to her. She huffed, growing annoyed. Parkinson stopped her from making an exit.

"Don't make me draw my wand," Hermione warned her, narrowing her eyes threateningly.

Parkinson squared off her shoulders. "I want you to talk to him."

"No thank you. He wouldn't waste his ruddy time with me, and frankly, I don't want to waste _my_ time on _him_." Hermione was able to step around the Slytherin before Parkinson gripped her robes, stopping her.

"You're wrong about him, Granger."

Hermione studied her for a moment. Parkinson had no mischievous glint to her eyes. She had no hateful smirk clinging to her lips. She was deadly serious about her statement.

"What are you saying?"

Parkinson snorted. "Bloody git's liked you since—" she paused, thinking. " Let's see, when did you start being his number-one topic—"

Hermione laughed in disbelief. "Yeah, right!"

"Since mid-term First year," Parkinson announced without any humour to her voice. "Personally, I think his obsession over you isn't at all too healthy, but now that you rejected him—"

"Rejected? I _didn't_ reject him! He _rejected_ me! He would never want a Mudblood for a friend! He's Draco Malfoy, for Merlin's sake!"

"Talk to him," Parkinson urged Hermione. "You'll learn differently."

Hermione shook her head, baffled with the Slytherin girl. "Why? Why should I even bother?"

"He's like a brother to me, Granger, and I'm concerned for him. He's no longer listening to me. You're the only one that can help him at this point." Parkinson sighed, and she softened her stance. "Please?" she asked, sounding pathetically desperate. "I know to you he seems like a complete twit, and _believe_ me, he can act like it sometimes, but he's actually a good person. He only lets a few people see that side of him."

Hermione sighed, conflicted on what she should do.

"Do it for the unity rubbish that you believe in," Parkinson pushed, seemingly knowing Hermione would agree to that.

Hermione grunted. She was seriously contemplating giving up her prefect badge next year. It was exceedingly exhausting to put all her differences aside when it came to the Slytherins all because she felt the need to patch things up between the two rival houses for the sake of _unity_.

"Just think what the professors would think if you two were able to patch things up between our houses. It would probably make school history, no doubt."

"Now you're just being cruel!" Hermione grumbled.

"But you'll talk to him." It wasn't a question.

It wasn't a question because Parkinson knew what Hermione had finally decided.

"Password is _cupcake icing_ ," Parkinson simply supplied, and she exited the laboratory with a bounce to her steps.

Hermione tucked her tie into her robes. If she walked into the Slytherin common room with a Gryffindor tie, she was sure they'd pounce on her. She kept her head down and crossed the room. No one seemed to notice her at first, which was relieving, but then she heard,

"There you are, Granger."

And she jumped a little. Zabini stood at her left, and she assumed that he must have been waiting for her.

"Didn't think you'd come, really." Zabini gestured her to follow him.

"I'm not sure why I did. I suppose it's my duty as a prefect," she muttered.

"We appreciate your help whatever reason it may be," he told her truthfully.

Hermione nodded an acknowledgement and peered into the dorm room that Zabini stopped at. Their room didn't look any different than Ron and Harry's did, except for the colours— and it was tidier.

Zabini pointed to a bed that was closed off with its drapery, indicating which one was Malfoy's.

With a steady breath, Hermione approached the bed, clueless on what she should say to the boy who allegedly liked her but had yet to actually show it.

She looked back at the door after hearing it close with a soft click. They were alone.

"Malfoy," Hermione braved to call out his name, knowing that she had to start somewhere.

"Granger?!" The curtains snapped back revealing a very disorderly Malfoy with wide, puffy, darkened eyes. He wore a wrinkled two-piece satin pyjama set, and his hair looked a wreck. "What are _you_ doing here? _How_ did you even get _in_ here?!"

"Your friends are worried about you," she stated stiffly. She could understand why, he was a _complete_ disaster. "Parkinson said you have this _thing_ for me?" she said it almost accusingly, but it did kind of irritate her that he had tormented her for several years. Hermione didn't understand why he would do that if he had really liked her.

But it was true. Draco Malfoy _did_ like her! Hermione knew it as soon as his eyes broke contact with hers. He didn't sneer at her. He didn't snap an ungodly insult at her. He just sat there, looking like a pathetic, little child who was being scolded for something he had done wrong.

"It's true then," she whispered, slightly shocked.

"It's true," he finally confessed with a tiny squeak. Hermione lifted her eyebrows and watched him bury his face in his hands. "I'm just an arse!"

"I'm not going to disagree with you here."

He dropped his hands and sighed. "I've been trying to change."

Hermione nodded. His attempts had not gone unnoticed. It had been weeks since he had called her a horrible name. "If you liked me so much, why were you so mean to me?" she asked. Her chest suddenly felt heavy with emotion as she remembered just how much of an arse Malfoy really was.

Malfoy scoffed. "I didn't really know I liked you until recently… My friends kind of pointed it out to me, and they got me thinking, and… it hit me. Like a bloody brick! All those times I was horrible to you… I just didn't know how to show how I felt..." he trailed off. "Merlin, why are you even here? I don't deserve your forgiveness!"

"House Unity," she muttered, creasing her eyebrows in mild irritation for feeling that she had to do the right thing all the time.

"You still wanted to be friends, Malfoy?" she asked him urgently, getting straight down to the point.

"We're friends?" he questioned in confusion.

"Well, we were as owlpals," she pointed out. "We could continue in person, that was the whole idea of the owlpal program."

A small smile came across his lips. "Yeah," he agreed. "I want to continue as friends."

"Then it's settled! Get yourself dressed. I'll see you up at the library. Say forty minutes?"

He nodded, somewhat dumbfounded, and as she went to walk out of the room, he called out to her, "Granger?"

"We're friends now," Hermione corrected. "You can't call me by my surname anymore."

His smile widened, finding her teasing amusing, but then it faded, and his voice got really quiet. "I'm sorry for all the times that I made you cry, Hermione."

Hermione nearly melted in her spot by the door. His apology sounded so genuine, something that she had not seen from him ever before. Parkinson had been right, there was definitely a different side to Draco that he only allowed a select few to see.

And he was sharing it with _her_. A _Mudblood_. A _Gryffindor_ Mudblood. He was going to have a _lot_ of explaining to do to his parents. Hermione almost pitied him.

"And I'm sorry for all the broken noses that I gave you, Draco."


End file.
